Kingdom of Camelon: Ch1

Chapter 1

The Prophecy Secrets

                                                “At the turn of the 7th age of Camelon”


         As the dried nettles and crushed snake fangs boiled in the coal black cauldron, Wilner stretched his thin pale arm out trying to put a bottle of worm juice on the shelf.  He was cleaning his godfather’s shop, which had been given to him after his godfather mysteriously died on one of his trips to the Redwood Forest, just a day’s horse ride out of Tafilin.  Wilner never knew his real parents; supposedly his father was a great sorcerer during 6th Age of Camelon. 
         Wilner lived in his shop, taking care of his old godmother, who was a great witch of the 6th Age, and one of his father’s closest friends.
         A loud knock came to the door, startling Wilner, who dropped a bowl of stewed horned slugs he was getting ready to put into the cauldron.  He was very easily frightened and could not hurt a lacewing fly if his life depended on it. He was naturally scared of things. He also had low confidence. Once when he was a child, he accidentally spilled his orangana juice in an attempt to ask the girl he loved out on a date.  She beat him up right on the spot.  After that incident, Wilner’s confidence dropped and he was scared to ask any other girl he liked out.   
         “Come in, the door’s open.” he exclaimed while picking up the slugs.  He was expecting his best friend Demanston Bahell to be returning with the order of porcupine quills from Mr. Razi, a local raw supply and book shopkeeper.  No one opened the door.  Wilner slowly walked to the door, wand in his hand, ready to try to defend himself, even though he knew he couldn’t do anything.  The door blasted open, knocking Wilner to the floor.  A brilliant light came from where the door once just stood and in the middle stood a large shadowy figure.  Its eyes were made of burning coal; its hands were as big as tree trunks, and a laugh. A laugh only heard in the depths of hell.  The sight of this evil creature petrified Wilner. It looked exactly like a guard of Hell. It was like the one in his dreams, only this time it was real. A dream that Wilner kept having since his godfather died, two year ago. He knew it was his time to go to the afterlife.  However, the laughter held an oddly familiar note to it. Wilner had heard that laugh before.  The light suddenly stopped and the huge creature shrank to the size of a normal man. An eighteen year old boy with shabby brown hair, piercing blue eyes and a well built body stood in front of Wilner
         “You should have seen your face.  It was so funny…did you wet your pants?  Ha!…You did!…This is great!”
         Demanston Bahell stood in the doorway wearing a large grin of satisfaction.
         “What the frak was that?” Wilner blurted out in a fit of sudden rage.
         “That my friend is a little trick I call ‘Guard of Hell’.  It’s a combo of shape shifter, flashpoint, and voice manipulator.  That’s actually the first time I’ve tried it and it seems to have worked quite well.”
         Wilner slowly got up from his fetal position.
         “Did you get the porcupine quills I told you to?”
         “Of course I did.  I may forget some things, but when it comes to helping my best friend, I never forget.”
         Demanston handed the bag in his hand to Wilner, avoiding the spilled slugs on the floor.
    “I think you should go change your pants before anyone sees you.  Don’t worry about the slugs; I’ll put them in the cauldron for you.  When do the porcupine quills go in?”
Shouting from the stairs Wilner said “Not till tomorrow. Anyways, I need to crush them into powder.”
      “I guess I’ll start doing that.  It’s the least I can do for making you wet your pants and all.”
Chuckling began to come from the door and Demanston knew Angy had come home in the midst of Wilner’s embarrassment.

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         In a distant land ravaged by war and misfortune, there ruled a king like no other.  His immortality was not common to humans.  His name was Abaddon, ruler of the Kingdom of Nolava.  He ruled from the capital city of Zocarh. Nolava was created when, in the first stage of Camelon, King Arthur decided to give up land he did not need or wan. Nolava had very little resources and was home to only the foulest of creatures.
         Abaddon had lived for 765 years, 733 of which had been in rule of Nolava.  His immortality came as a mystery to all but a few who knew his secret.  His physical presence was that of a warrior.  Straight black hair flowed from his scalp and his deep black eyes could puncture any soul.  His impressive height, taller than the tallest orc, made many fear him.  Yet many who saw him for the first time would think of him as a handsome giant.
    Throughout his reign he tried to raise Nolava to a position equal to Camelon, but no amount of magic could change the cursed land.  He had asked for help from Camelon many times, but none came.
         “Sire, we have reports that the Goblins have agreed to join your great scheme.”
         “Thank you, Larsin, for such great news.  Have you received any word from the Trolls?  I do hope that they are smart enough to understand my proposal.”
         “No Sire, I have not, but I am sure they will join our ranks.”
         “Good…Good.  I hope they do.”
         Abaddon gave a smile of happiness, the likes of which resembled the face of an evil conqueror.  His dreams of having unlimited resources for Nolava were very close in sight.  Little did he know that a prophecy was being fulfilled…

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         As Abaddon’s forces amassed, Wilner, his godmother Angy, and Demanston were discussing the recent sightings of werewolves in the forest over dinner.
         “Do you actually believe that werewolves live in Camelon, Angy?” Wilner questioned.
         “Why my dear, that’s how I believe your godfather left us.”
         “Are you sure?”
         “My child, I don’t believe they wanted to kill him, just scare him enough to keep him from talking. He had a secret.  A secret so important that not even I, the one he trusted with everything, knew what it was.”
         “How do you know this?” Demanston replied.
         “Well, before I married him, he would always carry a lavishly decorated book containing a letter an elf friend gave him.  One day, I went through this book, curious as I always was, and found the letter.  It was written in some strange language, old elfish I guess.  I asked him about it and he went crackers, screaming that I could have put the Kingdom into chaos and ruined the prophecy.”
         “What prophecy?” Wilner said puzzled.
         This had been the most confusing thing Wilner had ever heard his godmother say.  What prophecy?  What secret?  Could this be the reason why his godfather’s workshop room was always locked?
         “Is it that stupid prophecy that ‘Our King’ will return?” Demanston blurted out.
         “Demanston, no need to be rude!” Angy exclaimed as she swat him over the head.
         “I’m sorry mad’ am.  I just don’t believe in all that prophecy crap.”
         Angy exclaimed, “Demanston, watch your language.  One more time and you won’t get any steam baked cookies.”
         “I’m sorry again, mad’ am. Please, go on.”
         “Anyway, it is the prophecy of the return of the King.  Many years ago the last Arthurian King sent his only son to stop a rebellion in the marsh city Marlincor.  His son never came back; he was presumed dead, consumed by the Marsh of Despair.  When the King died, there was no proper heir to the throne, thus beginning the rule of the Stuarts.  Now Stuart Edward IV, the first Stuart of Camelon, set up an expedition to see if he could find the missing heir.  They never found him…but they did find his survival pack.  It wasn’t the pack that was the real discovery; it was the letter they found in it. A letter saying that the son had had a child on his expedition with a woman off the street.  An accident child, but still an heir to the throne.  This is where the prophecy comes into play.  The prophecy goes something like this:

“In the seventh age of our lord, the
Kingdom shall submerge under a great darkness, a
darkness like the one before the creation of Camelon.
Two stars will shine their light and destroy
the darkness.  The king and the mage shall
come to restore the peace that was lost.”

Everyone is waiting for the return of the king.”
         “What about the mage?” Wilner questioned.
         “No one really knows where the mage comes from or anything about him or her.  Not much was written about this mage.  Only a tablet in the Merlin Shrine talks about the mage.”
         “What does it say?” Demanston suddenly said, interested in the conversation.
         “I don’t really know.  I’ve never been to the Merlin Shrine.”
         A knock came abruptly to the door.  Upon opening it, Wilner saw it was Mr. Razi.
         “Good evening Wilner.  I came to check and make sure Demanston brought the porcupine quills you asked for.”
         Mr. Razi had always been like a father to Wilner, more so than his godfather.  He was always giving gifts and teaching him magic.  In fact, Wilner’s love for magic came from Mr. Razi.  Mr. Razi gave Wilner his first wand.
         “Why hello Mr. Razi, good to see you. Yes, I did get the porcupine quills and thank you again.”
         “Good, so Demanston can be trusted. I’ll be off now. Good evening.”
Demanston glared at Mr. Razi in a jokingly manner.
         “Don’t you want to stay for dinner?  Angy made her famous roasted chicken ball.”
         “Well, I didn’t have any dinner. Is it alright with Angy?”
         In the distance Angy shouted, “Come on in, we’d all enjoy the company. And I made extra just in case.”
         “Well, if you insist.”
         Mr. Razi’s plate overflowed with food: roasted chicken, boiled potatoes, fried frog legs, and wild rice.
         “This is delicious, Angy.  Where did you get the frog legs, if you don’t mind me asking?”
         “Well I got them from a trader on his way from Camelot.”
         “Ah yes, Camelot. Explains why they’re so tender and fat.  Everything is great in Camelot.  The food, the drinks, and the women, if you know what I mean.”
         “Mr. Razi, I never knew you could speak of such things.” Angy exclaimed.
         “Well when you are as old as me, there’s really not much that you haven’t said, especially when you’ve been with pirates.”
         “You’ve seen pirates?  Are they as the stories say?”  Wilner blurted out.
         “Yes, all the stories are true.  The wooden leg, the parrot, the hook, it’s all true.”
         “The raping? The pillaging?  They’re savages!”  Angy exclaimed.
         “Not all of them; not these.  These were part of the Luby Clan.  They vowed to change their ways after their leader fell in love with an elf.  After another clan of pirates killed the she-elf, the leader realized how everyone felt about pirates.  I met the Luby clan leader 30 years ago; he was the grandson of that leader.  The grandson was called Patt Luby.  He should still be their leader if he hasn’t died yet.  He was the youngest leader.  I helped his clan find the lost treasure of Aldezan…”
         “That’s not that hard to find.  It was said to be in one of the three Towers of Triumph.” Angy said.
         “Yes, but which one…that was the question.  I had found a book giving the exact location of the treasure.”
         “Not trying to change the subject but have you heard about the werewolf raids happening?” Angy interrupted.
         Mr. Razi’s face all of a sudden changed as if he had seen a demon from hell.  His complexion turned white as snow.
         “Are you ok, Mr. Razi?” Demanston replied.
         “I need to go. I’m so sorry but I must leave.”
         Mr. Razi bolted out of his chair, waved goodbye and left the house saying, “Don’t follow me, please, for your own safety.”
         That was the strangest thing Mr. Razi had ever done.  What had caused him to leave so suddenly?  Was it the question about werewolves or did he remember something?  Wilner was puzzled by Mr. Razi’s last statement.  Why should they not follow him?
         “That was real strange.  Was it something I said?” Angy questioned.
         “I don’t think so.  Well, you did interrupt him in the middle of his cool story.  Man, that probably explains why he has so much money and all those cool swords.  I wish I could meet the Luby Clan.” Demanston said.
         “Well I guess this means I get his cookies, right?” Wilner said jokingly.
         A lot of raucous was coming from outside.  It sounded as if someone was fighting with a dog.  Then a blood-curdling scream echoed through the ears of every person in the village.

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         The city of Camelot was the capital city of Camelon.  Its buildings were some of the most beautiful buildings in all of Camelon.  Walls made of white alabaster that reflected the beauty of the sun, iron working so complex that magicians could swear it was made by magic, and glass made from the mythical land of Egyptonia.  Every building was a work of art.  At the back of the city stood the glorious and triumphant Sacha Castle.  The central tower could be seen from miles away, reflecting the sun as a beacon of freedom and power.  Its black and white granite gave the castle an aura of power, symbolizing both freedom and protection.
         A u-shaped mountain ridge surrounded Camelot, making it only accessible from the front.  This made the city very easy to defend from invading armies.  A unique defense happens when the sun hits the mountains just right, the most beautiful lullaby is heard, warding off evil for miles.  This lullaby is said to be the spirit of Arthur’s wife protecting her beloved people.
         The third Stuart of Camelon, Stuart Barmond, son of Adinon, had only ruled for 3 years, and was already losing power due to his playful manners.  The people were weary of him, the police would go behind his back, and his own family disliked him.  His greatest wish was to find the true king and give him back his throne. He truly despised having power, and was quite the opposite of his father.  His father had known how to rule, and was said to be more popular than the true king himself.
         “How old do you suppose the king has to be now, Karoz?” Barmond said in a sigh
         “I do not know your majesty.” Karoz said in a gentle but deep voice.
Karoz was the Stuarts general and controlled all the armed forces of the kingdom. He was young and short, with short spiked hair. He talked with a heavy accent, which came from his parent who where gypsy’s. Karoz had never seen a real battle and was always eager to find trouble. He wanted to prove that he could handle any situation.
         “How many times do I have to say not to call me by that title, I hate it.  Anyway, I don’t believe he’s still alive.  I believe it’s his son who is alive now.”
         A man with two imperial guards came running in, breathing heavy, and trying to give a very important message.
         “What is the meaning of this?” Karoz proclaimed.
         “Another town’s been attacked by werewolves.  This time there were total casualties.  No one survived.” The man blurted this out as he gasped for air.
         In a pissed voice Karoz said “Well someone had to have survived.  How would you have gained the knowledge of the attack?”
         “Because I was the only surviv…”
         The man fell to the floor, dead before hitting the ground.  A large chunk of flesh was missing from his back with blood everywhere.
         Karoz turned to the two imperial guards and asked what town this poor man had come from.
         “He said he came from Ferfield, sir.  It is two days away, but he flew here on a griff, which explains why he was still alive when he got here, Sir.”
         “What is the closest town to Ferfield?  We need to warn them immediately.”
         “The closest town sir is Tafilin.  I shall send them an owl distress message.”
         “No, use the crystal ball.  Owls are too slow.”
         Karoz turned to the Stuart, trying not to sound too harsh.
         “Your Majesty, you better do something about these raids or everyone will think you are a coward for not confronting the problem.”
         “You shall hold your tongue and speak no more.  I know what I have to do.  Go and assemble a squad to investigate, track down, and kill the werewolves.  Leave none alive.”
         “Yes, my lord.  I apologize and shall do as you wish.”
         Barmond was beginning to fear he was going to have to talk to Abaddon about the raids.  Maybe he knew who was doing this.  Barmond feared and hated Abaddon with a passion, but if he had to do it then he had to, as his father always said, “Never fear your enemies, only fear your fear.” Barmond would do anything not to be Stuart of the crumbling Kingdom of Camelon.
         “Wait. Before you assemble your team, send a messenger to Abaddon with this message:


“I, Barmond, Stuart of the Kingdom of Camelon, ask for your help in                                                                                                                finding who is sending raid parties to the towns of Camelon.  I am willing to send
recourses to help you on your cause.  The Kingdom of Camelon would
greatly appreciate this from you and your people.

                                                                     Stuart Barmond of Camelon”                       
         
         “My lord, are you sure of this?  Why don’t you sent an owl message?  You’re endangering the life of that messenger.”
         “Not if you send an elemental.”
         An elemental was a creature, in human form, which was made of one of the five elements of earth; fire, water, earth, wind, and the most rare and powerful of all, love.  The elementals cannot die, per say, only be disassembled by magic.  The only one that can die is the love elemental, its death causing sadness to everyone that witnesses it.  The sadness is sometimes so deep and horrible that many take their life away, often using gruesome techniques.
         Barmond had just come up with a great plan.  If he sent a love elemental and Abaddon kills it, Abaddon just might kill himself.  He did not want to kill himself from the beginning so his curse would be lifted and he would die.  It was fail proof that is if Abaddon did decide to kill the elemental.  If he did help, then Barmond would start to believe that something was not right.



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         When Wilner opened the door, he was petrified at the sight that lay before him.  Blood was everywhere, flesh splattered up against the wall, and an enormous ferocious werewolf with blood all over his snout and his hands stood over what resembled Mr. Razi, or what was left of him.  Both his legs had been mangled and could never be used again, if he survived his other fatal wounds.  His torso had been ripped open at the stomach, revealing his insides, his face was almost unrecognizable, with blood all over it and deep slashes covering it.
         The werewolf was about to make his final blow when Wilner, in a rage and instinct, shot the werewolf with a silver blast from his wand.  The silver blast knocked the werewolf to the ground with a loud thud.  He roared in pain as the silver coursed through his body, dissolving everything it touched.  In a final cry the werewolf gargled, “The prophecy shall never be fulfilled.”  With that, a puddle of silver and blood replaced the spot where the werewolf had fallen.
         Wilner bolted to Mr. Razi’s aid, yelling the only spells he knew to heal.  They were no use; Mr. Razi had been too seriously wounded to do anything.  It was like trying to stop a breaking dam with a band-aid.  Wilner slid to Mr. Razi and picked up his head.
         “It’s going to be ok, I’m not going to let you die…” tears muffled Wilner’s speech.
         Angy and Demanston ran towards them crying for help.
         “Hold on Mr. Razi, help’s on the way…don’t you die on us!”  Demanston tried to inflict optimism in his voice.
         Wilner couldn’t stop crying, trying to remember every thing he knew of magic, to see if there wasn’t anything he could do to stop the bleeding.  Blood was going everywhere, mixing with the dirt and making a slushy solution.  In all the commotion, Mr. Razi was staying entirely calm.  He knew he was dying and he was relieved.  He could finally tell the secret he had been holding in his heart most of his.
         “It’s ok…don’t worry about me.  The only thing I ask of you now is to promise me something Wilner…promise me you will go to Camelot and give this to Lord Copernicus…promise me you will go…” Mr. Razi’s voice was gargled and raspy.
         “I promise, even if I have to die.  I will go, but please don’t die, don’t leave me!”
         “I will never leave you, I will always be in your heart.  Now take this, do as I told you.”
         Mr. Razi handed a folded up paper to Wilner.  As soon as Wilner’s trembling hands grasped the paper, Mr. Razi’s body went limp.  A long exhale came from his mouth, giving the final sign he was gone.
         In a matter of minutes Wilner’s life had collapsed.  His closest friend and father figure had been taken away from him for reasons he did not know.  A crowd of people started to form, all asking what had happened, but Wilner did not notice.  All he heard in his head was, “I promise, I promise, I promise…”