Eldersons

SHIMARIN

Standing up, Corron tried to think. Corron Elderson? He knows my name, but he might be confusing me for someone else… Elderson? No that can’t be right, my last name is Copperfield. It sounds so familiar… that’s it! Adelyn’s last name was Elderson! Corron was standing now, and staring at the man who claimed to know him. To his surprise, the man erupted with laughter. Corron narrowed his eyes, as the man continued to laugh for nigh on a minute. While still in mirth, the king snapped and two tussocs brought in a mountain of food on a silver platter, along with Corron’s knife, bow and arrows.  

          “Please, eat.” Corron, having not consumed a morsel of food in over a day, dug into the dish. Grapes, strawberries, chicken, potatoes, honey-sweetened bread, and many other fruits and vegetables that Corron didn’t recognize, were piled upon the trey.  “I can imagine your confusion.” Continued the man, “And, by the look on your face, I can tell you don’t remember me at all.” Corron realized he was scowling as he devoured the food, and tried his best to smile, despite the circumstances, and a piece of chicken squeezed itself out of his mouth. This, however, only made the man laugh harder than ever. Come on, my face isn’t that bad.  The man, who finally found his sanity, broke the silence that he himself had made.“Please allow me to formally introduce myself, again. I am Shimarin the sixth. Or, my previous, more formal name; King Shimarin the sixth.” Corron’s respect for the man in front of him instantly sky-rocketed. He dropped a role of bread to the ground.

          “You’re a king…sir!” Corron thought it best to speak with respect towards this man, lest he act upon some royal anger and turn him into a frog… or worse.

          “A king without a kingdom is hardly a king at all.” He replied, “And please, call me Shimarin. I prefer to be addressed as an equal by an old friend… or his son.” For the first time, Corron was highly interested with what the king had to say. He stopped eating, and Shimarin sent the platter-bearing tussocs away.  

          “You knew my father?” Corron almost shouted out. The king’s wise eyes glazed over, and he seemed to look straight through Corron.

“Indeed I did. He was my greatest councilor and friend, and at times my—my worst enemy. He saw things in me that no one else could. He believed in me when no one else would. And yet—” The king trailed off, and he once again looked into Corron’s eyes. He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the landscape around them. “Do you know where we are, Corron Elderson?” His silence spoke for him. “Look around you!” demanded the king. “These desolate ruins were once the great Kingdome of Therum, and I,” the man placed his gloved left hand over his chest. “Their king!” The king took a step closer to Corron. There was a crunching sound as Shimarin’s boots smashed bits of rock.   “I was there, Corron Elderson, the day your father died.” Corron’s confusion burst into anger. 

          “No, no that can’t be. You must be mistaken. My father died in war. He was the last man standing during the battle against the dark Vralell. It was nowhere near Therum.” Shimarin seemed not to notice his outrage. He stepped closer until he and the teen were face to face. The king’s words came in a whisper.        

          “No Corron, you see, that can’t be true. I killed your father.” The King turned and paced slowly away. “He was a brave man, even in death. He went willingly also… with never a care for the world, only his king.” Corron started to protest.

          “You—!” Corron’s mouth was snapped shut. He tried to speak, but no words were emitted.

          “That’s better.” Smiled the king. “As I was saying—”

          “My lord!” gruesome cheers erupted as a giant tussoc burst into the clearing. Drool dripped from the massive creatures yellow fangs that protruded from his jaw. He bellowed at the praise he was given. The king spun around on his heels, his gloved hands folded behind his back.

          “Speak.” He commanded. The tussoc kneeled, bowing down to the size of the king.

          “Three Vralellean scouts were hiding in the Shither Bog my Lord.” The king’s brow narrowed.

“Continue.”

“They were foolish enough to try to draw my blood.” The surrounding tussocs bellowed and stomped their feet. “I impaled them on the branches of the oak they were hiding in my Lord.” The king smiled.

          “Well done Icktosh. How many others did you smell?” at first the only reply the king received were the hollers of approval from the sounding creatures.

          “Five… maybe six hundred other Vralell scum. Easily double us.” The king scowled, then raised his hand. The tussocs were instantly silenced. Everything happened so fast after that, Corron could barely understand what was going on. The first thing Corron saw was a silver arrow protruding from the tussoc called Icktosh’s chest, and black blood dribbled down his filthy mouth. Next, dozens of tussocs fell to the ground, the same silver arrows sticking in them like needles in a quill pin. The whole clearing erupted with shouts, hollers, sounds of confusion, and hollers of pain. Corron fell to the ground and rolled up in a tight ball. Hoping not to be mercilessly pinned to the ground by an arrow. Shimarin was shouting orders, then turned to Corron, extending his hand.

          “Corron Elderson, join me! We could rule Azraell, together. You can take your fathers place. I can explain everything to you but there is little time. Take my hand!” Corron hesitated. “Now!” again, Corron was unsure. Shimarin’s eyes blazed with a cold fire. Corron…Now!” The man stopped waiting, and rushed at Corron. Then everything slowed down. The teen looked up, and saw a golden-haired Vralell squatting on the branch of a tree. His green, boot-clad feet looked as if they rested on air. The stern looking man’s mouth lifted at the corners, and a voice penetrated Corron’s head. “You know what to do young Halfling. Strangely, Corron was not surprised. It was almost as if he was accustom to speaking to somebody with his mind, however, he was confused why the Vralell called him a Halfling. Use your magic Halfling. Corron turned to face Shimarin again. The king still ran in slow motion, his robe slowly billowed to the ground. Looking up again, Corron saw that the Vralell was gone. He raised his hand, and angled his mud-caked palm toward the oncoming man. Again Corron pushed into the back of his thoughts, and still again, the pain shot through his head. Corron growled in anger, as mettle claws seemed to rip apart his head. This time, he knew what to do.

          “Athlen.” A torrent of yellowish-orange flames catapulted out of his palm and encircled the king. Time again resumed its normal pace, and the king fell to the ground, rolling over and over, beating at the flames. Corron saw it as the perfect opportunity. He turned tail and ran. Corron didn’t know where he was going, but he didn’t care. He was willing to go anywhere to get away from that… that thing masquerading as king. Corron ran through the sparse wood that surrounded the area. Suddenly, the ground rushed forward, to meet his eyes. Corron’s vision blurred, but not to the point of complete blackout. Instead, nature itself had mercilessly kept Corron just conscious enough to feel excruciating pain. Ikka! A rough kick turned the teen on his back. A figure stood over him, and somehow, through the blure and pain, Corron knew it was Shimarin. The King’s laugh entered his mind. So you want to play with magic boy? That’s fine by me. The Insane Man’s words echoed in Corron’s mind as darkness took hold, leaving him with a cold, dreamless sleep.