The Maps of Seven and the Trinket of Iris

Chapter 1-2

                                     The Witch and the Oracle: Sign of the Great Star

The land was deserted on the outskirts of the Sea City. The cliffs, jagged and weatherworn, held strong against the winds that blew in from the east. The people inside the walls of this great city moseyed about, some having no idea that the long awaited prophesy had already begun to unravel. There was a storm coming, and none could stop it but the one who carried the serum that held the fate of all those who did dwell in this once safe place. No one could be trusted or told apart, friend from foe. There were treacherous spies even amongst them, for they kept a watchful eye for the wicked witch and evil king. None had yet discovered what great lengths they would go to, to retrieve the serum and rule the lands that boasted of freedom. The witch wanted all that was beautiful to be drawn to her so that she might consume all brightness and replace it with the dark plague in her heart, a plague that would leave the lands barren as far as the eye could bear to see. The journey that was underway was perilous and burdensome upon the shoulders of one young man. Indeed, the Stalker was the only one who could bear it. Bear it, truly, he did.

Klever trudged exhausted up the white sandy beach toward the foothills near the strange light-orange-bark trees to stay out of sight. Fogus had disappeared in the thick mist that dampened the brush almost a mile from the wall that protected the city. Perching Klever in a small tree proved easy. The fowl could see in the distance that there could be a chance for those who did lay in wait to attack the Stalker who held the serum close, but it was not of true concern. Fogus would not let them strike without a fight well fought. The Obdurate Errian knew that there was something or someone near but was uncertain of its alliance. So he watched most carefully.

Meanwhile, Dumago lingered in the thick bushes near the gates of the city to intercept the young man who sluggishly continued forward. It appeared that he was so tired that he did not know his way. He was visibly weak. The journey had not been gentle. There were scars upon his legs showing through his tattered clothing that told of his struggles and close calls. Klever was determined to endure, for he loved his sister, and he felt that she was more than enough reason for him to fight for his life, if not but to die for hers. Often, he had thought of how wonderful it would be if things had gone back to the way they were, before there was war, death, and sadness, but he knew it could never be. He clung to what hope he had that he would not fail. It did not matter that he was told that he would not, for he still had doubts. It was hard for him to believe what the Oracle had spoken at times when the heat bit and the unforgiving sun stung his eyes. He did not think clearly when the rain beat against his back with the wind pushing him to his limits.

He wondered why King Muglug allowed war at all. He thought about why there must be death and endless dying. It did not seem fair, for he had not known war before he had been separated from his beloved twin. Since then, the conflict advanced toward the path to war. There were many that sought after the potion that he carried. It was very important, powerful, you see, and magical. Should it fall into the wrong hands, the consequences would be gruesome. No one but the Lithyte Stalker of the prophecy could obtain it and wield it at its fullest potential. It was his duty to keep it safe and hidden away. Thus far he had done so with much diligence. So much fuss for such a small thing, he thought. Yet the life and survival of this world depended on the safe delivery of this transparent liquid that rocked so tranquilly in his arms, a defenseless babe. The responsibility was heavy. Klever began to feel the weight of it when ferocious sharks beneath the sea had almost eaten him. It was then that he realized how real this journey had become.

He imagined where Mernaline might have gone when they had departed from each other’s side. He was still smitten by her kiss. Maids of Mer were known for their deadly kiss, but hers was not like those in old wives’ tales. It bequeathed him a sense of hope that perhaps one day they would meet again and dance in the current of the sea. The thought of the mermaid occupied his mind quite oft. It was a welcome distraction from the journey that dragged on despite his weariness. He was tired, and his hunger made him weak as he reached for his canteen, for he was parched. It was down to the last few drops. Hiking during the day when the noonday sun was hot made his mouth dry like cotton flowers. Sometimes, they were seen on the hillside of mountains near the West or in the fields near St. Lostobeth. His lips peeled, revealing the sunburned red beneath. Klever had not much energy to spare, so he did not worry about it. He had not slept well for the space of two days and had not eaten much since he had left Mernaline behind at the seashore. He knew that he should not think of her too often, or he would become rather distracted. After all, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.