Excerpt: Priestesses of Arave

Prologue

The castle fell apart in flames. Everywhere within, the soldiers methodically killed all who would not join him.

No one saw the figure, clad in light blue and covered from head to toe, sneak out of the castle. She held a bundle in her arms, and had anyone seen her or the bundle, they would have been filled with an inexplicable sense of joy for the future, no matter how hopeless they had felt moments before. For the Goddess held the last daughter of the ruling family, the three year old Selakah.

The figure walked through the ruin of the panicked villages, unseen and unheard. For she was not of mortal form- she was Jarica, the Good Goddess, come to leave a hope for those oppressed by the Evil One, whose pawn had gathered amny allies among the nobility and slaughtered all who had opposed him, eliminating nearly all of the Kyngs.

Soon there woulod be rumors even some of the Kyngs family had sided with him. But from there, it varied from their betrayal saving their miserable lives, or if Jovysku, now king himself, had killed them, so as to prevent their defection to the true side.

But that was of no concern for now. The Goddess knew where she was headed. Only she knew how long it took, for in the future, Selakah would claim to have no memory of this.

She arrived at a farm. Some might say it was the wind, but a wise person would have known the golden stalks themselves, and even the young trees nearby, were bowing to the future Quene, for the Goddess who held her was too modest for such unnecessary luxuries.

Sela smiled and patted her stomach. Soon, their child would be born. She and Velzed had never really discussed their child’s future, but she had just had a vision of their son sitting on the throne, once the elves, led by her lover, forged an alliance with the loyal villagers and nobles of the kingdom to overthrow Jovysku.

Tears streamed down Sela’s face as she ran. It had been mintues since she left the forest. She remembered perfectly where her parents lived.

The words Veildez had said to her, driving her away from the evles forever, sprang unbidden to her once-innocent mind. “If that should happen,” he had said about her vision, ”He will rule, and be remembered fondly. He will die with his mate, at an old age, and his child will rule after him. The child will rule the same way he did, and the people will love him. We have seen this before. When this monarch dies, he will be murdered by someone he once called his friend. This friend will rule in any way he likes, but he will be regarded with hatred, and so will any of his heirs, even if his predecessor, our descendant, was hated when he was alive. And the cycle will continue.” How could she not have realized he cared nothing for the country their peoples lived in?

She could never remember if it took hours to return to her parents, or if she wandered without food for days. The hours were precious and few as she greeted her parents, and begged for their forgiveness. She told them she would die after her son’s birth, but they would not listen to her. She told them he would live, and he would save them from the false king, and though she would never forgive her husband, she still chose to name her son Velsi, with his name on her lips as she died.

Chapter 1

Velsi hated farming. He would much rather sleep in the morning. He had wonderful dreams, where his mother had fled his father rather than abandon her dream of seeing him on the throne someday. It was a silly notion, but that’s what dreams were for.

A rock flew past his somewhat pointed ear. He had been expecting this, but it was enever ayn less hurtful, when they taunted him like this. And for what? Being an orphan? For having a mother raped by an elf, and then died? Perhaps it was just hatred. But in that case, he should suffer, because some people needed hatred to live, and he would rather it be inflicted on him, who would fight back some day, then some helpess poor child, who would then be stoned to death.

“ha ha!” The folloing generic insult, he had become deaf to. Who cared? He was above such insults, and he knew one day he would be greatrer then all of them, and then they would see. It was a cruel world that some people needed to live off of hatred for others. If he was ever in a position that allowed, he would take care of that.

“Velsi.” It was his grandfather’s voice.

What was he thinking? Better to just see wjat Be-Jinor wanted. He would always be a farmer, not a king! Hhe shook his head at his own silliness.

The house had been exactly as it had sonce his great-grandfather’s time: a few dirty rooms and whatever furniture they could afford that hadn’t fallen apart yet.

Had there always been a secret compartment beneath that loose floorboard? His grandfather drew out a long object wrapped in blue cloth, and then something else golden. He sat down in front of his kneeling grandson.

“Velsi, there is something I and… Laehira never told you.” Even after a few years, it still pained him to speak the name of his dead wife. “Aboutu your mother…”

“Yes?”

“She was not truly our daughter. Laehira could never have children. When the king overthrew her family, Jarica saved the young girl, all she could. She delivered the sleeping, peaceful child to us. I remmebr it as if it were yesterday…” He was lost in thought.

“Be-Jinor? grandftHER”

“Yes?”

“About Jarica nad my mother?”

“Ah. She… we raised her as we would any child of our own. Sela… Selakah was beautiful. We chould have known she would never marry a mortal, mere human man. She fell in love with an elf, whose name we never learned. She was a young girl, only as old as you are now. She may not have known what she was doing. But she ran away to live among the elves. They conceived a child; you. I do not know exactly what was said or done, but days before you were born, she ran away from him, and refused to speak of im at all when we asked her why she had come home. She gave birth to you, giving up all the strength she had survived on. Her last words were your name, elvish for light.”

Velsi had never heard this before. He had always thought his mother was raped, and that she had killed herself in shame of him. That was what everyone else said. But perhaps it was another taunt.

Bbe-Jino drew a shining sword from the cloth, and carefully handed it to Velsi, who looked at it in awe. He knew his grandfather had given up some of their money, which could have been spent on luxuries for himself, to maintain this sword.

“The Goddess gave it to me when she gave us Selakah. She said that she knew we would raise her right to restore the Kyngs, the true rulers, to the throne. She said Sela would wield her ftaher’s sword to save gejah, the land.”

Velsi nodded eagerly. He had always wished for it to be like this –in fact, the stress that he did not feel, the absence of shock, just the feeling of relief and ha[ppiness that this was confirmed, he must have known it al along! The Goddess had been preparing this for him all along, so nothing cvould go wrong! It was just like what had happened in the time of Kyng Riikuo –his great-grandfather, Kyng Riikuo, he amended. Now he would gather heroes of varying races, perhaps even an elven relative, and overthrow the false king, who had oppressed his people ever since he had come to the throne, and the land itself had failed to defeat him.

“There is one more thing,” Be-Jinor said. He withdrew a piece of paper from the bundle. “It is tradition not to let the Prince know of the exact circumstances of his destiny, but I have raised you as I did your mother before you –as if you were my own, of course –and I love you. I was able to find and whave written one of the three prophecies concerning your

Restoration. “ He handed Velsi a piece of paper with a poem scribbled on it.

“One more thing.” Be-jinor gestured for him to dip his head, and felt somecool and soothing drop around his neck. It was the golden –gold, he corrected himself –necklace, with a the symbol of the Kyns as a pendant. He looked up at his grandfather, Be-Jinor, eyes shining in thatnks. There was no need for words, and it was too painful to say good-bye. Velsi headed out onto the road, away from the places and people he ad known all his life. Someday, he would be king, no, Kyng, and then he would show they who had hurt him.

No, he would help them, and everyone else they had opprseesed, for theis need to hate stemmed from groing up under the evil king.

The one he would personally destroy.

Now all he had to do was find someone to read the prophecy to him.