Thrag

THRAG
  Thrag looked around at his surroundings in utter despair, unable to believe the recent course of events. He roared his misery to the heavens, which looked down upon him with the most brilliant of blues and the purest of white puffy clouds. He roared even louder at the horror of this infernal blueness, knocking over several small trees with a small burst of psychic energy. Smiling at the destruction his tantrum had caused, he strode away from the small circle of devastation caring not where he was bound.

  Just a simple haunting for Kampasala - Lord of Nightmares, Bequeather of Despair and Misery, the First Plantagenant of the Ruling Council of the Netherhells. A simple nightmare for Breena, Queen of the Kyrle. Two weeks of nightmares was all he had to accomplish. Instead, after five days, he was beginning to lose heart in his assigned task. With access to all of the feelings and emotions of the gentlest of all creatures, Thrag’s feelings began to soften. With only the purest of thoughts and compassion for all living creatures intruding upon his mind, he never stood a chance. Even the most evil of the demons would have been troubled by such thoughts of kindness and good. By the time ten nights had rolled by he was smitten by Breena. With each passing day the hauntings lengthened, as did Thrag’s growing love for her. His nightmares had lessened in intensity as she began to dominate her dreams.

  To hide his love for the Kyrle Queen from his fellow demons he busied himself with his day to day work of torture, torment and inflicting mayhem of the mundanes who chose not to worship him. Try as he might he could not keep her from his thoughts for long periods of time. He knew if his love for her was discovered it would mean banishment this time. Two weeks had passed and while no demon had noticed his dilemma the first Plantagenet, Kampasala had been watching and waiting. Waiting for a sign so that Thrag could fulfill the legacy of the curse laid upon the Kyrle a thousand years before.

  The Kyrle King, Brasana had become haughty and challenged the Lord of Demons, Brax to a duel. They fought the duel in the midst of the Kyrle forest causing great devastation. They did battle for three days and nights. When calm had been restored to the forest the Kyrle returned to find their king standing alone in the midst of the devastated forest. Of the Demon Lord there was no sign, he had disappeared never to return again. Some of the Kyrle welcomed this news with much relish and proclaimed their king as a hero. While others, more so the majority of his people, shook their heads at his folly and waited for the retaliation. They need not wait long.

  While the Kyrle were unsure about their feelings for the king, the demons of the Netherhells knew exactly how they felt. The council of demons lead by their newly appointed First Plantagenet, Kampasala, combined all their power to teleport all the Kyrle males, be they boy or man, to the Netherhells for the young Thrag as play things. Once there he transformed them into Thains, the giant lumbering creatures of every child’s nightmares (you know the one where the monster is chasing you down a long dark corridor never quite catching you but he is always there waiting for you to fall or slow down). He tormented and twisted their minds until they were as evil as he was. He ruled and tortured them ever after. In return they loved him as only a child could love his creator, with fear and reverence.

  Kampasala, Brax’s favoured son cursed the Kyrle claiming that, while his reign as the First Plantagenet lasted, no male Kyrle shall be born. Also his son Thrag would one day rule over all the Kyrle lands. Since that day no male creature has ever dared to enter the forest of the Kyrle. It was also forseen by the prophet Fixandalus, that one who shall be shunned by the Netherhells shall bring an end to the curse. Kampasala laughed this seer off as a charlatan, opening up the ground to swallow the hapless fellow, saying that if he had any talent as a prophet he would have seen this coming and simply side stepped around the gaping hole.

  It was Kampasala’s plan to banish Thrag from the Netherhells to fulfill the legacy and rule over the Kyrle. Thrag, being malleable and eager to please was Kampasala’s first and only choice for the job, any other demon would not be trustworthy. Who else but his son would fall in love with a mundane? No other demon possessed a heart.

  The gods, having witnessed this atrocity meeted out to their beloved Kyrle, planted a Goran seed in the middle of their forest. The tree would grow to be an intelligent and venerable creature that would ensure the Kyrle would outlast the demon curse. Kampasala’s curse held firm and no male was born to the forest dwellers.

  Thrag grimaced as he recalled the events that led up to his banishment.
He strode quickly down the passageway towards the council meeting chamber. A storm of magical psychic energy travelling in his wake, scorching the already blackened passageway. A squoggle, an imp-like creature the size and colour of a dove, flittered along the corridor towards the raging Thrag, unaware of the foul mood of the demon before it. It cared only for the message it carried from one demon lord to another; a message if not delivered would mean dire consequences for the First Plantagenet of the ruling Council.

  Thrag, in the foulest mood ever, knew why the council demanded this audience. He also knew that somehow his father was behind the events that lead to this audience. Yet again he would be the laughing stock of the Netherhells, surely they would cast him out this time. The foul mood storm around his head grew darker by the second as he neared the squoggle.

  The squoggle full of itself and its importance in the scheme of life, was so busy gratifying itself of this importance, that it failed to notice the darkening cloud of magic ether preceding Thrag. Had the creature noticed this he would have taken a different route to his destination. The Prince of Darkness didn’t miss a stride as he stared in righteous indignation at the hapless squoggle approaching him. The arrogant little creature attempted to match the stare with one of its own penetrating glares. The inadequate squoggle was no match for the demon’s glare. A glare that could stop the lumbering hulk of a thain dead in its tracks. It simply withered away to nothing, without so much as a whimper and was no more.
Little knowing, nor caring of the chain of events he had just begun; Thrag stomped the rest of the way to the chambers. Knowing the outcome of the council’s decision didn’t make the banishment any easier to accept. One minute he was in the council chambers the next he found himself in the mundane world, naked in the guise of a man.

  Movement in the trees brought him out of his reverie. He kept moving steadily forward noticing movement out of the corner of his eye. Faint girlish giggles and whispers tickled his ears. The movement and whispers diminished as he neared a clearing in the forest. A diminutive figure dropped from the branch of a rowan tree to stand boldly in front of him.

  “Halt man! What business have you in our forest?” demanded the creature before him.

  Thrag recognised her as one of the Kyrle who inhabit the enchanted forest Brek magical alun.

  “Only to get where I wish to go,” he replied taken aback by her stern manner.

  “Where is it that you wish to go?” she asked.

  “Anywhere that is away from this infernal forest,” he said glaring about him.

  Seemingly from nowhere, another Kyrle appeared to confer with her companion.

  “From where does this man come and how does he come to be in our forest, where no man has tread for a millenium?” she whispered to her. “We must accompany him to see the Queen.”

  “Breena?” Thrag gasped out. “The Kyrle Queen! Yes I will accompany you to see her.”

  “How is it that you know of our Queen, stranger?” the first Kyrle asked suspiciously.

  “Err…. Umm…only in my dreams.” He stuttered desperately.

  “Come then,” she said turning her back on him and quickly disappearing into the forest. The second Kyrle stayed awhile in order to ensure that Thrag followed them.

  After only a short period of walking the three came upon the mighty Goran tree and the heart of the Kyrle realm. The foliage of the mighty tree encompassed an area of two hundred metres. The only plant the Goran would allow to grow beneath its massive canopy was a lush carpet of moss, sprouting small vibrant flowers. In between its plush green foliage were dispersed many bunches of rainbow coloured flowers. Blue jays flittered amongst the many boughs and branches playing with each other and occassionally swooping a passing Kyrle.

  Beneath the massive boughs of the Goran tree, sitting on a throne of moss, sat the Queen of the Kyrle.  A simple crown of rainbow coloured flowers from the tree of knowledge adorned her head.  She wore a long gown of diaphanous purple silk and softened white leather shoes.  A ring her late husband, Brasana, had bestowed upon her on their binding day and a simple circlet of gold worn midway between her shoulder and elbow were all the jewellery she wore.  Her green tinged blonde hair glistened in the late afternoon sun; her aquiline features radiated beauty and a confidence she didn’t really feel.

  The throng of Kyrles who had gathered around the Queen stepped closer as Thrag and his escorts approached eager to partake in such a momentous occasion.  The escort stepped lightly towards the lovely creature at the center of the throng.  Almost unwittingly Thrag tiptoed across the ground, unwilling to crush the delicate white flowers.

  “Your Majesty,” the Kyrle scout said to her queen. Gesturing to Thrag she continued,  “This is the stranger who was found wandering in the forest.”

  “Welcome to our forest stranger,” Breena said, as the gathered throng leaned closer to hear her soft harmonious voice.  “News of your arrival in our fair woods has preceded you.  I am Breena, Queen of the Kyrle, caretaker of the forest Brekalun. How shall we call you while you reside amongst our the city in the trees?” 

  “Err.. ahh… Thrastin,” Thrag stuttered, taken aback by the beauty of the young queen. 

  Upon hearing his voice the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.  The timbre of the voice was somehow familiar to her, yet she couldn’t place it to the face of the young man before her.  Nor could she place the voice with any face she had ever seen. 

  “Well Er…Ahh… Thrastin,” the Queen said with a smile.  She leaned forward on her throne to see this Err Ahh Thrastin more clearly, intrigued by the mystery unfolding around her.  “You are most welcome in the court of the Kyrle”. She stood and curtsied to him.

  “Thankyou, Your Majesty,” he replied, returning her curtsy with a clumsy bow of this own.  “Just Thrastin if you please.  I am honoured to be in your presence and that of your court.  I am at your service.”

  “Come,” she said, stepping from her dais.  “When news of your appearance was relayed to the palace a repast was layed out and should be ready as we speak.” 

  “We will need to find you some appropriate clothes, but this will do until such garments are found.” She stepped down from the dais.  A handmaiden wrapped Breena’s royal cloak about her shoulders.  She quickly took the cloak from around her and offered it to her guest. 

  Thrag slung the cloak over his shoulders and accompanied Breena to the palace.  As he walked the halls with her by his side he noticed that the walls were actually tree trunks grown so close as to form a wall that would keep out rain and wind.  In fact the whole palace was part of a vast forest of Burra Burran trees grown specifically to form the royal residence.  The furniture throughout the royal house was formed from the roots of the trees and the roof was the dense canopy of leaves. 

  Their journey ended in the dinner hall where a grand feast was laid.  All manner of vegetable dishes and salads were spread across the table.  Thrag was dismayed when he learnt that the Kyrle were strictly vegetarian.  The table was set for ten places, eight settings were for her ruling council who were already seated.  They stood as Breena and her guest approached, only sitting after the royal party was seated.  The Kyrle escort retires to the adjoining room to partake of their own meal.  Each served their own dish and the feast began.  Never having eaten such food before, Thrag pretended to enjoy it and conversed politely with his dinner companions. 

  While the feast was progressing to its sweet ending Breena was carefully watching her guest, trying to fathom the enigma of Thrastin’s presence in her enchanted forest.  She watched as Thrag conversed with her friends, sometimes noticing a sinister glint in his dark, mysterious eyes.  A glint she had seen before, a glint that has haunted her before.  Alarm bells began ringing deep down in the crevices of her mind, not quite reaching the surface but showing enough to intrigue her senses.  Bubbling to the surface like half-realised remembrances of an age gone by.  And then the laugh and snort brought the walls of her memory crashing down as she remembered the face that belonged to the voice. Thrag!! 

  What was he doing in her forest?  Was he here to fulfill the prophecy of a thousand years ago?  Or was this merely a nightmare that she would wake from trembling like so many nights past?  Then she felt the presence of the Great Goran as he entered her mind, advising her to follow her heart.  She relaxed as the soothing words of the venerable tree washed over her thoughts.  The Great Goran, the divine entity, knew more of this mystery than he let on and could not be persuaded to relinquish his insight.  All Breena could do was relax and trust in the words of the wise one. 

  The feast ended with a selection of sweet cakes and puddings, which Thrag decided were delicious and well worth a second and even a third helping.  The banquetters retired to the library to sip a fruity wine called selmia and engage in light conversation.  Before long the council members drifted away to their soft, beckoning bed leaving Thrag and Breena alone. 

  The alcohol in the selmia wine began to loosen his tongue; he recounted many of his experiences to Breena, careful not to give away his real identity. She listened intently and quietly, asking questions rarely to clarify some unclear part of the narrative.  When Thrag had finished she noticed that almost all of his experiences were at someone else’s bidding. 

  “Do you always do as you are told?” Breena asked. 

  “It would seem as though I do,” he replied after a little thought.  “I had never thought about it before.  Does that make me a bad person?” 

  “No.  It means that you have trouble saying no, because you don’t wish to offend or upset anyone.  While you are led to do these things for others you do them honorably and to your own conscience, rather than doing their bidding unquestioned.  You are a natural leader, you should start saying no and choosing your own battles.” 

  “Noone has ever said such nice things to me before.” He stated.  “I shall have to ponder your kind words before I come to a conclusion about what my next course of action will be.” 

  With that Thrag excused himself and retired to his appointed room to rest after a very eventful day.  Breena was left to ponder what the day’s events meant for her and her people. 

  The next morning Thrag awoke to another bright clear day.  Instead of storming about and getting upset about the infernal blueness he embraced the day with a joy never before felt by a demon.  Having much to think about he wandered in the forest alone until the sun began to disappear over the horizon.  He arrived back at the palace on dusk, just in time for the evening repast. 

  After the meal was finished Thrag and Breena withdrew once more to the library to talk and sip wine.  He recounted his day of walking through the forest seeing many types of trees, flowers and animals, Enthralled Breena watched as he talked with boyish enthusiasm about the forest and the creatures within it.  So enthused was she that she missed the question he asked of her and had him repeat it. 

  He asked once more what and why this great forest was cursed.  Breena poured herself another goblet of selmia before answering.  Looking deep into the sediment at the bottom of the goblet she narrated at length the story behind the enchanting of the forest.  When she came to the telling of the curse she related only the prophecy of the demon Thrag coming one day to rule over the people.  She refrained from relating the Fixandalus Prophecy, feeling that the sage was a charlatan and should have side-stepped the gaping hole. 

  The prophecy, hereto unknown to Thrag, was a revelation and as such caused him to once again question what role his father had had in his being here.  For the next few days Thrag found himself in the company of Breena or her handmaidens.  They would take him out into the woods to some quiet out of the way place.  There they would frolic in the freshly scented amber trees or swim in the river or even laze on the crag overlooking the Great Goran and the Kyrle township.  Every evening they would return to the palace to dine, then retire to the library to sip wine.  They would talk of their adventures, of life outside the confines of the forest and, rarely, about the Kyrle themselves. 

  Through the day he rarely had time to dwell on his problem and his father.  At night his dreams constantly reminded him of who he was and how his father was using him to gain control of the Kyrle and their forest.  His dreams began to fester in his mind, turning him sour and angry.  His dreams were making his waking hours harder and harder to bear as his true nature began to surface.  For the moment he was able to resist this vileness which, he knew didn’t belong in the Kylre’s world.  By day it was easy to forget in the presence of Breena.  His love for her had not abated, but grown even stronger in her presence.

  Two weeks passed with little change. 

  When he wasn’t with Breena he would turn into a mischievous little imp, much to his dismay.  Using his telekinetic powers he would push unsuspecting and innocent Kyrle maidens into the river or trip them into mud puddles then laugh uproariously at their misfortune. 

  When told of these incidents Breena would soothe the affected Kyrle and shrug off the incident as the release of boredom.  But when a report of a half-eaten deer was brought before her she found it necessary to confront Thrag.  He denied any knowledge of the incident.  After seeing his chagrined face and feeling his empathy for the slaughtered creature she gave him the benefit of the doubt.  She let the matter rest one last time.  Her friendly chats with him continued after dinner but didn’t seem to keep him out of trouble when she wasn’t with him.  She knew it was only a matter of time before something serious would happen. 

  The days pass by in which time Breena got to know her guest reasonably well.  She asked several times what he would do about his banishment from his homeland and his tendency to be led against his better judgement.  He would only shrug the question off and change the subject to happier topics.

  The day of the fire in the forest was the day Breena knew something had to be done.  After dinner was over that evening she motioned that none should follow her to the library for drinks.  Before Breena could sit down in her favorite chair Thrag was pacing the floor agitated.  Not knowing how to voice his thoughts to her, he talked quickly before she could soothe him with her soft and calming voice. 

  He explained about the cruel and evil things he had done in the past couple of weeks.  She understood and forgave him instantly, also revealing to him that she knew his true identity. 

  “I have come to a decision about my banishment,” he said, with a tear forming in his eye.  “ I shall return to the Netherhells to face my father and whatever he would do to me.  No, no, don’t say anything.  Don’t try to persuade me to stay, for we both know it is fraught with peril.  You cannot change a leopard’s spots, as the saying goes, and I cannot be good all the time.  I choose this option not for me but for the sake of you and your people.  I have no desire to see them harmed or enslaved as my father wishes”. 

  As he stared sorrowfully into those green, sad eyes Breena stepped towards him and kissed him long and hard. 

  “It is not my wish that you leave either, my love” she sobbed.  “But I know I must let you go.  It would indeed be perilous if you were to stay any longer.” 

  His arms still around her waist he pulled her close and they kissed hungrily once again.  With their love heating up quickly she let him guide her to the couch where they could have one night of passion before he would return to the Netherhells.  Thrag’s skin tingled when it came into contact with Breena’s naked form.  His hands lovingly and soothingly caressed every part of her.  When she was ready he thrust himself into her and slowly but passionately made love to her.  After they had reached the ultimate climax they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms. 

  As she descended into the land of sleep Breena heard, in her mind a soft but audible sigh and a voice say, “ At last!  My task is over.”  She fell off to sleep with a knowing smile. 

  She woke the next morning alone as she knew she would.  One of her handmaidens was hovering anxiously and agitatedly about the room. 

  “Your Majesty,”she babbled  “At last you’re awake.  I dared not to wake you even with such sad tidings as I bring you this morning.  The magician Thrastin has gone without even so much as a by your leave.” 

  “Calm yourself Nella,” soothed Breena. 

  “But there is worse tidings still,“ Nella continued.  “The Great Goran has gone as well, no one in the community can sense him and he has spoken to none.” 

  “This, I also know dear, sweet Nella,” she replied placing her hand nurturingly on her stomach. 

The End.