A Short Story Collection

Circacial

Many years ago, a king and his people traveled through Wailen. Their feet dragged along the roads, and they carved pathways. All of them searched for their lost kingdom. A world they had once owned, but all taken away by a Magi. Bricks had vanished and the king had cried. Then his subjects set off to find their kingdom with carts and oxen.

The king wore his crown crooked in a slant against his head. It hung sideways as his chariot tumbled across the road. His eyes saw forest and sun for miles. No brick, no cities, nothing... The traveling village rode and the oxen chewed their cud. They crested a hill and built a village of tents. Lamps flared and children played, but all enjoyed the stars. The great, great stars. Glittering, twinkling, sparkling stars. They floated above like a dandelion's featherlike hairs with blue and white tufts stretching from each star.

The king caught sight of the stars while he prayed to the Prophet. But his eyes glimpsed for a second until he closed his eyes and imagined. His mind saw visions of his lost kingdom, with empty houses and empty villages, with neglected toys and lost mirrors, with dust over everything. His eyes saw vines creeping and breaking down walls. When he opened them again, they were gone and the pit inside his heart grew a bit more.

For him, tomorrow brought progress, but today brought nothing. Tomorrow, another king to ask for help, but today, his feet had walked, and he had dragged his heart behind in chains.

So, he stood up and lay on his kingly bed and wondered about his kingdom.

The morning arrived, and the king's eyes opened themselves. He held his staff in one hand, and his head poked out from the tent flaps. The sun hid itself among the clouds, and he walked to the oxen. His legs climbed upon it. The king set off and followed the path of the others.

The afternoon came with a beating sun, and they arrived at Aligore's kingdom. Soldiers and a telluride greeted them, and Aligore walked to him. Both exchanged greetings and walked to Aligore's clay abode. Underneath the reed roof tiles, they talked and agreed. Aligore nodded and the king mumbled but laughed.

Then, in one final nod, Aligore decreed 10,000 soldiers and able-bodied men to find the king's kingdom over Wailen.
The telluride waved them a goodbye, and soldiers marched away. Bronze hacked through weed and bush. Cities sprung from their footsteps, and a city of tents lay at night. On and on, the soldiers marched, but they met no village, no brick, no lost kingdom, nothing...

After a month, the king nodded his head and waved a sad goodbye. Then, with his subjects, he set off. Their footsteps left trails behind him, and he raised his staff to the place of Magi and Himare. Thundery clouds billowed, and wind swept through them. Trees bent and the grass swayed with the wind. He and his subjects hid in the forest for refuge. Their eyes hid themselves away from the wind, and they tried to rub together fires. But, the wind put each one out and only smoke remained.

The king raised his head, and tried to discern the Prophet's face from the clouds. But his eyes saw clouds and none else.

When night arrived with stars, the king prayed to the Prophet, but he heard no answers. The king went to sleep underneath a tent, and hid himself from the light.

The sun rose overhead and bloomed light like a yellow flower. The king set his staff upon the ground, climbed the oxen, and set off to the Magi. They trudged through mud, and traveled through yellow grass. The king had his staff against the light and set it forward. He beckoned them forward, and his subjects continued. When the clouds covered the sky, they saw red, blue, and gold fly above in sparks. The smell of sulfur and charcoal wafted in the wind.

When the afternoon arrived, they stood above a village of Magi. Torches went with the wind, capes dragged, beards pulled. People looked up, and the telluride came down. It greeted them, and the king went down to the village. His eyes looked around, and he spotted a Magi. Tall and old with no cane, who greeted him with a nod...

They talked, and the Magi agreed to find their kingdom. The king sat on a bench and watched the Magi boil and simmer Galtrand and Gotund. With a sphere of Quand, the Magi looked into and saw nothing, but grass and weeds. The Magi continued throughout the day while the king rested his kingly figure against the bench.

When the Magi could work no more, he fell asleep from exhaustion, and went away from the king.

In the morning, the Magi told him that his kingdom lay lost to time. The king went away and gathered four more Magi, who he told the same thing. Each time, he sat and heard the same, that his kingdom lay long lost. With a heavy farewell and a burden still upon his chest, he set off..

The king bid the telluride and it's village a farewell, and his subjects went along. Their oxen traveled and pounded through marsh and mud. The king looked back with a frown, and stared at the sky for the Prophet's face. He discerned blue clouds and white sky. But he paused after the harsh sun glared down at him. Then the king blinked and looked away.

Aligore greeted them, but the king never looked. His eyes stared down, and he rested against the grey walls. He rested and lay, and ate and drink. He refused to dine, and sat against that bench for hours, then days, then a week. The king's eyes grew grey with circles clinging around his eyes. The crown lay and slumped on the bench.

After a week, Aligore ran down to the king's bench. His eyes grew wide, and he talked about Pnoaphales. The only mountain where the soldiers hadn't gone. Aligore tripped and stumbled. Then, he yelled at the soldiers to gather 8 explorers to find a kingdom on Pnoaphales.

The king stood up from the bench, and walked to watch the explorers. Messages passed while the king looked up for any signs of the Prophet. The explorers braved the magic and passed the Abyss. They reached midway until their legs pumped no longer and their energy fizzed out. They climbed down, and reached Aligore's kingdom.

They'd seen nothing... Nothing! They'd shouted those words again and again. Aligore tried to set the king's crown back upon his head, but the king refused and sat in silence...

After the king heard the news, he gazed away from the sight and slept. He slept and slept those painful memories away. His mind emptied of thoughts until he dreamed no more. His breaths grew soft and labored. With wake, his thoughts suffocated him until he longed for sleep once more. Days passed, and he slept through each. Time passed quickly. For him, time had no meaning, there was no time...

Then, while he lay in bed one day, he heard a sound. Light seeped into the room from a window, and he closed it with swift hands. He lay sleep, still and pale. The dark covered his eyes with a shroud, and he slept in silence...

There was nothing... Only wind, and the creaking of his bed... Then a slow whine, louder, and louder, until it was a roar... He stood up, and discovered an open window. He stepped to it, heard the battering wind, and the groans of wood.

The king passed his head through it, and looked at the light. A great, shining light. It shone past him, into his eyes, and he saw the Prophet's face. A final look, some soft words were spoken, and he was left in his bed...

Another day passed, and Aligore ran down the hallway for one last time. The king heard the knocking, and he opened the door.

News came that his kingdom had been found. Houses of brick and stone uncovered. No moss, no vines, no plants tearing it apart. No dust settling upon it, nothing. For, it was as new as ever. Aligore laughed, and told him about the arrow. They'd taken an archery contest, and shot upon Pnoaphales. Then one drunken explorer had readied and fired. An extraordinary wind had guided the arrow into bricks. They had heard the sounds of collision. When they saw the towns and houses, the explorers ran to tell them.

The king bid Aligore farewell and laughed. He set off on two oxen. His subjects followed him to the brick kingdom. The clouds parted to reveal the shimmering sun. He followed the Prophet's path, and reached his kingdom.

The Prophet had watched over them in the clouds, floating above them all, but hiding himself from their view... The Prophet, with thoughts everywhere, guiding the arrow to their town and village... The Prophet... He'd seen him... He'd seen the Prophet...

For years, they had traveled. Now, it stood, found by chance, found because of the Prophet. Not lost, and now found.