Elijah: The Shattered Nation. - 1. Chapter 1: First Day

Elijah: The Shattere Nation

by thatboyChase

 

Chapter 1: First Day

 

 

They stood on hallowed ground. The sun had barely begun to creep over the liquid horizon beyond Damascus. Dusty light, softly at first, scattered across the land as Elijah awoke. Today however, today was darker. Dark had it been in ancient times.

 

The Tree of Elijah, the symbol of the monarchy, an oak tree. Today it was dormant, devoid of life. The bark was gray and worn, as if shadows had dragged nails across it. The leaves were not soft as they once had been, nor colorful; they faded slowly, drifting to their own dooms to be crushed by time.

 

The gates to the garden had been opened this day. Two of the Guardians, sworn to stand watch at the gate, stood silently behind Braden Extollere, Lord Regent of Elijah.

 

Before them, the Garden of Elijah, which surrounded the tree, was trampled.

 

Desecrated.

 

One grave had been dug up, the body was missing, and they knew this. It was forbidden to exhume royalty, especially under the gaze of Elijah. Yet something more was wrong, Braden felt it as he stared blankly into the empty grave. He thought a thousand times faster than he had ever imagined. Who would do such a thing? Who would commit a most unholy act as this?

 

“This is an outrage!” Through the gates, with a flurry of attendants, came Preston Micnaut, Court Chamberlain and Speaker of the Council.

 

Braden turned to regard the Speaker with an eye of irritation. “Chamberlain, mind your manners in the presence of these.” His hand fanned out to encompass the various marble squares that represented both the named and unnamed kings and queens of Elijah.

 

Preston faltered for a moment and bowed curtly, “My apologizes, milord, but…”

 

“Do you need them?” Braden eyed the few attendants that fluttered behind the Chamberlain.

 

The older gentleman regarded his attendants for a moment, finally waving them off. “No, milord…” he walked toward Braden to stare into the hole in the dirt.

 

“I appointed you a year after the fiasco at the Seat, I trust your judgment, Preston.” The Chamberlain nodded in thanks. “What do you make of this?”

 

“I…I do not know, milord. I truly do not. The court is awaiting your arrival, it is First Day, you know…” Preston glanced briefly at Braden.

 

“I am aware. The media will not report this, save for those who want to think the worst…”

 

“It is indeed something terrible, milord…” Preston whispered softly. “I am determined to find the perpetrator. Jarvaxia has no place for one such as this; they shall be put to death!”

 

“We shall see. I assume there are many petitioners this year?” Braden inquired.

 

“Correct, many, we will see to as many as we can.”

 

“Good.” Braden folded his arms, staring still into the empty grave. Who did they take? None of the graves was marked, it was tradition, and they could not even dig up the other bodies to double check.

 

Braden was now a stalwart young adult, one of the youngest pseudo-rulers of Elijah. The youngest king had been Maximan Extollere who had succeeded his father at eleven years of age. Braden had been Regent for only a year. During that time Braden had become calculating and distant. Words usually dripped with edge from his lips. Some say it was the vanishing of Jeremy Worthington, the Speaker of Elijah; others say it was the loss of his family. There was darkness in his eyes no one could explain; yet he controlled the kingdom with the grace of a king.

 

“Did you see anything?” Braden turned to face the Guardians. Both stood at attention, saluted and adjusted their golden spears. The left Guardian spoke from beneath his gilded helmet.

 

“My lord!” he rumbled. “Our eyes did not see, our bodies could not move. It was shadow and twilight. They were quick, they descended from the sky, from the dark clouds.”

 

“My lord!” The other cried. “They spoke in ancient tongue and magic ripped the air, but it was subtle, and seemed harmless. Some wore dark clothing, others cloaks and masks. They did not harm us. We were put at ease when they arrived, and then we were released.” They spoke in riddles, which annoyed Braden.

 

“We will discuss this later.” The Lord Regent moved away from the graves; the Guardians saluted and stood silently. “Continue your patrol, no one shall know of this.” They saluted and Braden left the Garden along with Chamberlain Preston. The gates shut and locked behind them.

 

Across the road, a motorcade of cars awaited, black vehicles. Servicemen waited silently near the cars. Members of the Duchy spoke in hushed tones; several high Court members were also present. They surged upon the Lord Regent, questions flying.

 

“What happened?”

 

“Do you know who did it?”

 

“Was it Venz?”

 

Braden held his hand up for silence. “We will discuss this later in the evening. A special assembly will be called. It is desecration of the highest level, we will find who has done this. Details will be sent later to your various aids. We now must return to the Seat for First Day.” Braden’s words were a clear dismissal; people hastened to their cars. Braden slid into the back seat of a sleek luxury car.

 

He sighed, and leaning into the leather. His hand rested where Jeremy had sat when they journeyed to Damascus together. His heart ached for a moment.

 

“Don’t you think our aunt could take care of all that?” A beautiful young woman sat across from him. His sister, Juliana, now the Duchess of Riven.

 

“Yes, but she enjoys her role as behind the scenes as she can…but this…” the car rumbled to life. “This is a lot.”

 

“You have been through a lot, brother…we all have.”

 

“It has been years since the events at the Seat, everything was so smooth after, now this…this is skipping so many steps I did not foresee.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“They have returned, the Prophets, the Black Dawn, it must be they. Who else would employ magic so…ruthlessly?”

 

“You cannot make hasty assumptions.”

 

“Do not play advocate for them, they deserve nothing less than sealed death.” Braden shed his coat and leaned deeper into the seat. He needed sleep. His handsome face was marked by tension: pale and gaunt.

 

“You look ill, brother.”

 

“I have not slept for some time, I have been having these dreams…”

 

“When?”

 

"Randomly, but often enough to notice a general theme."

 

"Which would be what?" His sister leaned forward, a look of curiosity upon her face.

 

"Death." Upon hearing this, the Duchess recoiled briefly. Her movement was subtle, but Braden did notice.

 

"Who? Or what?" She asked.

 

"No one now, not here. I just feel it, when I am there. It's like drowning, but I can still breathe, I just know...it's there..." The countryside rushed past. It soon turned to golden fields and long highways that led to the glistening capitol, Cathedral.

 

"Where is there?"

 

"I have no idea. It is all gray and dark, dim. Like a picture, black and white, devoid of substance. It is a large chapel, or cathedral, maybe, a church of sorts." He could see it now, in his mind.

 

Tapestries once full of color and life, hung, tattered. The pews were cracked, some were overturned. The stained glass fixtures were nothing more than shards.

 

"What else did you see?" Her voice invaded his thoughts.

 

"The altar...but it isn’t. It is a throne and..." Braden frowned, staring at the leather seat, trying to find the right words. "Jeremy is sitting on the steps, and it seems like he is waiting. I go up to him, I can't speak, my mouth won't move and when I touch him he turns to dust..." Braden was staring at his hands, as if he had seen the dust just then. "Dust."

 

"Your imagination, brother." Juliana leaned back into the seat and stared out the window. “Simply that. I will speak with Sydney about the incident at the Tree. See to it our aunt will be present for First Day."

 

"Yes, of course." They drove for hours more until the motorcade reached the city and the Seat of Elijah. The marble steps glistened in the afternoon sun, reporters shouted and cameras flashed. First Day dictated the direction of the coming season. Their car came to a halt, the door opened and Braden slid out.

 

Cameras exploded and people began to shout, petitioners lined the streets. Some held crude signs, others yelled chants and called various names of Lords and Ladies of the realm. Braden offered his hand and the Duchess exited. The car pulled away. Wrapping her arm around Braden’s, his sister leaned toward him. “Smile, brother."

 

Braden pushed aside his previous contemplation and flashed a smile. Reporters tried to push past the servicemen lining the stairs. Near the large glass doors into the Seat, the twelve Paladins stood at attention awaiting their Lord.

 

"Lord Regent, My Lord..." various media fiends shouted. "Extollere!" Braden kept walking, occasionally stopping with his sister for a few quick pictures. Various other members of the royalty began to walk slowly up the stairs behind the Lord Regent and the Duchess.

 

Sydney, High Captain of the Paladins stood at attention at the top of the stairs. Juliana slid away from Braden to speak with several media representatives. Braden nodded towards Sydney. He had been appointed to the position of High Captain directly after his father's death during the Battle of the Seat. He had achieved one of the highest positions in the Elijahan Legions, although he was barely out of school. His bravery had justified this, and within five years he had become both a strong figure as well as a connection between Braden and the vanished Jeremy Worthington.

 

"My Lord!" Sydney saluted. Braden waved his hand.

 

"None of that."

 

"Only followin' protocol." The blond paladin shrugged. “Security is fairly tight and I doubt anything will happen..."

 

"A body was taken from under the Tree."

 

"Oh, you're blaming that on me?" Sydney’s gauntlet finger poked at his gilded breastplate.

 

”No.” Braden turned to look down the stairs at the nobles who were arriving with their escorts. “Bringing you up to speed. Your purpose is to protect the Seat, but I think we should issue a call to Venz."

 

"Why? Can't we just send an investigation unit there? Weren't they attending the assembly?" Sydney offered.

 

"We could, but I feel there is more. A little extra won't hurt us and I am sure they would oblige in kind."

 

"Yes, of course, but ...it is First Day. You must be approved by the Court before you can issue something like that on holy ground. You are not..."

 

"Yes, a rightful heir...I am merely protecting the sanctity of the situation. All right?."

 

"Shall I send one then?"

 

"Yes. If anyone asks, glare at them."

 

"As you say.” Sydney bowed slightly. “I will see you within Court later."

 

Braden nodded and strode into the Seat. Royal guards stood at attention in the foyer awaiting the nobles. Soon, the vast chamber known as the Court Grove would be filled with warm bodies and whispers of politics and tax reform, complaints and compliments, angry protesters, and begging petitioners.

 

Avihs greeted Braden as he entered. “My Lord, welcome back. I take it your visit to Damascus was met with approval?"

 

"Somewhat, yes. Send a memo to the chamber boys to alert the lords to stay once First Day is completed. There is an urgent issue to discuss." Avihs bowed instantly.

 

"Of course, my Lord, should I label it specifically?"

 

"Yes, 'Important' and simply that. I take it that the Grove is ready?"

 

"I shall do that, and yes, it is. This way." Avihs had served the Extollere for several generations, her age was a questionable thing. Some say she never aged, something out of magic, yet no one complained. She had served both Braden's uncle, the late Titian Extollere, and his father as a personal attendant. Her dark skin led some to assume she came from lands outside of Elijah, yet nothing had ever been documented past the seas and beyond the borders of Venz. It was only ocean.

 

Avihs led Braden through two doors protected by royal guards. They parted to allow the Lord Regent through.

 

The Court Grove was the heart of the Seat, as the Throne Room above was the brain. The Court itself was gigantic, able to seat thousands, with even larger standing room. It was a coliseum: the floor was covered in a lush red carpet threaded with gold. At the end of the ring of seats, a raised platform it was topped with a large, round, oaken table. Twelve seats, were angled not toward the center of the table, but arranged to face the center of the room. Behind the table, a large oak tree climbed into the dark ceiling. It was more than alive, it was brimming with life; its leaves glittered green; its boughs stretched across the ceiling. The wooden columns that held up the vast ceiling had been etched with leaves and vines, giving the name 'Court Grove' its meaning.

 

Royal guards stood vigil at each column. Braden's eyes traveled across the Court, nodding in approval. "Good. When do you think we can begin?"

 

"Within the hour, my Lord.” Avihs seemed to wish to speak further. "If I may speak plainly...my Lord?"

 

"Of course, Avihs, you may speak plainly at all times. You labor far beyond your job description." Braden smiled for the first time in months.

 

Avihs bowed swiftly. “I am honored, my Lord. If you wish to hurry First Day, I can arrange so. I am aware your nightmares have been....."

 

"It's not that, no..."

 

"My apologies." Avihs eyes were no longer on Braden, but turned toward the floor.

 

"Did you find Charlie?"

 

"Yes, I collected him earlier this morning. He is rather excited."

 

"Where is he?"

 

"Upstairs, I shall send for him."

 

"Yes, do. Inform him he will be sitting at the High Table." Avihs raised her eyebrow. "He is a descendant of the Speaker, I suppose it is fitting. Plus, as a new Archivist, I want him to record the happenings of the day."

 

"What of...the name escapes me, but the Archivist of the Court?"

 

"Give him the day off. I must prepare."

 

"Yes, of course." Avihs bowed and departed. Charlie Worthington, Jeremy's younger brother, had a talent with lore and history that had been noticed by teachers at the school in Westfield. Braden had ordered him inducted into Archival Prime to become and Archivist. Charlie was the only connection left between Braden and Jeremy. Braden questioned his own motives: did he want to protect Charlie, or did he want to have a living reminder of Jeremy close by? Braden brushed off these thoughts, and strode across the vast expanse of the Court Grove.

 

When he reached the platform, he ascended the stairs that put him atop the platform and at the table. Fingers traced along grain of the polished oak, oak that had come from the Tree of Elijah itself. The wood glowed a buttery gold color in the torch light. Documents were stacked neatly before each seat; itineraries for the Court. The largest seat was his. It was a high-backed chair that might have been called a small throne. The chair was decorated with symbols from the flag of Elijah: green fields and a golden oak.

 

Braden sank slowly into the chair, trying to find minim of comfort. Nobles began to enter and take their seats. The Grove flooded with whispers and laughter, cordial conversation. Braden’s sister, Juliana, arrived and joined Braden at the table. Sydney entered, and stood behind Braden's throne.

 

"I sent the team."

 

"Good." Braden nodded. The public began to enter, surging into the seats. Some had been waiting since the day before for a good seat. Large television screens lined the streets outside, providing media coverage for those unable to attend in person; moreover, the proceedings were broadcast throughout the realm.

 

"Where is the Chamberlain?" Braden asked. His head tilted toward Sydney. The paladin pressed his finger to his ear, speaking into his shoulder as he communicated with other security forces throughout the compound.

 

"I believe he is en-route, My Lord." There was a buzzing sound as Sydney listened to another communication.

 

"Venz has arrived, my Lord."

 

"Venz?" Braden's sister asked. Braden replied with a sharp look.

 

"Yes, Matron Mother Eliza has appointed a new member to her council, to take the place of Rodef and I offered them a seat to view our agenda for the year." The Duchess of Riven cast her eyes down, and fell silent. "Now, Sydney, send for them."

 

The High Captain touched his ear to relay the order, the doors opened and a hushed calm swept over the Court Grove.

 

A young man strode into the room. He was dressed like Rodef once dressed: swirling robes of earthen colors, a headband of ribbons, and stark viridian makeup upon his cheeks and about his eyes. Braden knew the newcomer was prepared, the Venz operated with ancient magic taught by Synthril, one of the twelve disciples of Elijah. The representative of the Venz to the Court of Elijah strode along the crimson carpet and bowed deeply.

 

"I come as the voice of Venz and to aid you in the trials to come..." Braden sat up sharply.

 

"Trials?" He breathed. No one heard. Had they heard, they’d not have paid him any mind. All eyes, all attention was on the Venz. Braden waved the Venz ambassador toward the table. He nodded politely to those already seated, and took a seat, himself.

 

"I am Shelt, it is an honor to sit with those who rule Elijah."

 

"We do not rule Elijah," the Duke of Belfala, Gregory Jeremiah said. How dare he speak first? Braden thought. After the scandal of those within his office stealing Court funds? We’ve not yet resolved that. He tore his attention back to the scene before him. "We merely act on His behalf,” Belfala concluded. Most of the Court knew that Gregory Jeremiah had been for years siphoning funds that were meant for reconstruction on several farm lands in the Province of Belfala. An intern at the Duchy Offices found a discrepancy in bank transfers a year ago forcing Gregory to be issued a summons to the Throne Room. The date has yet to be set.

 

"Gregory, please.." Heather Melrue, the Duchess of Telam spoke softly. "Perhaps he is not familiar with the way we..."

 

"I am quite familiar, Your Grace,” Shelt said calmly. Braden eyed them from his seat.

 

"Ah...then..." The Duchess of Telam, sigh, tired from her work, leaning back into her seat. "Very well."

 

As if summoned by Braden’s thought, the Chamberlain arrived, his face red with frustration, "My Lord," bowing to Braden as he tried to catch his breath, "Your Graces." He sat.

 

"And your reason to be tardy to the High Table?" Juliana's voice cut across the murmur of the Court Grove.

 

"I was attending to a matter within the Archival, your Grace." Preston dabbed his forehead.

 

"With what approval?" Juliana questioned.

 

"I was merely double..."

 

"Not now....Charlie, welcome.” Braden had caught sight of the young Archivist walking toward the platform. Braden stood, and gestured to the last empty seat. As Braden stood, so did the others.

 

"This is the relative of the Speaker?" Morris Garlendal, the Duke of Portalis, almost laughed.

 

"Don't suppose he could use some more meat on his bones, eh' Lord Regent?" Helga Garlendal, the Duchess of Portalis was a rotund woman. Braden usually described her as jovial.

 

Charlie wandered up the stairs. There were flickers of Jeremy in his appearance and mannerisms. His cheekbones were slightly higher, and his brown hair was a tinge lighter than Jeremy’s. He was handsome, like his father and his brother, however there was a gentleness that Jeremy had not possessed; further, the boy was slender, wispy even.

 

“Now, be seated please,” Braden said, and sat.

 

"Thank you for having me, Braden." Charlie beamed. He unslung the baldric that had hung over his shoulder. Several large tomes peeped from the top.

 

"You are welcome,” Braden said. He looked around the table and added, “I have appointed Charlie to a position within the Archival under Percival as an apprentice Archivist of sorts." The table nodded approval. "He shows promise as a scholar and I believe that the fortitude and courage to undertake such a task runs within the family..." Braden smiled at Charlie.

 

"Yeah, Jeremy would be..."

 

"Now, to begin," Braden quickly interrupted. "Chamberlain? Please." Preston nodded and descended the platform to stand at the focus of the gigantic coliseum. A pair of black clad attendants brought a silver staff, presenting it to Preston formally. The Chamberlain took the staff. Preston stood erect, as if he were a soldier standing at attention. He faced the door and rapped the staff loudly upon the floor. The sound echoed throughout the Court Grove and hushed the whispers into silence.

 

He then turned to face the High Table and rapped three times.

 

"Children of Elijah!" The Chamberlain called, "Upon the final strike of my staff, thus begins First Day!" The staff slammed into the floor and the crowd within the Court Grove and outside roared to life. Braden felt a chill run up his spine with this symbol of the country’s spiritual and patriotic reunification following the Battle of the Seat.

 

The Chamberlain held up his hand for silence, but it was several minutes before the audience within the Court Grove hushed. "I present to you the Lord Regent of the Crown, Braden Extollere!"

 

The sound that followed was deafening. Preston returned to the table. Braden rose and raised his hand. Silence blanketed the room.

 

" First Day!" Braden declared. Elijah roared to life once more. “It has been five years since the passing of a great man, my uncle, Titian Extollere..." Braden paused, and heads throughout the kingdom bowed. “During those five years we have rebuilt our wounded kingdom.” He paused, and said more softly, “Perhaps we have rebuilt even our egos. Now, however, now we look ahead to a new horizon. One filled with prosperous harvest..." Applause rumbled through the Court Grove. “No longer will shadows creep into our land unnoticed....no longer will treachery against the Crown and the people of Elijah be tolerated.” There was another brief pause. “Soon, each family, no matter which province from which you hail, shall live within a home, fathers will have jobs and mothers will safely be able to tend to the children..." This was followed by lighter applause. "And to begin this day, we shall hear your pleas and honor them...Chamberlain." Braden sat as the crowd roared, Preston nodded and once again descended to the arena center.

 

An attendant gave Preston a small card. Clearing his throat, he announced, "Mr. Jacob Augusta of Telam!" Certain portions of the Court Grove, likely inhabitants of Telam, applauded.

 

A wiry man escorted by Royal Guards, walked slowly through the doors. He approached the Chamberlain and gave a short bow. Preston motioned towards the High Table.

 

"Charlie," Braden said softly.

 

"What?" Braden raised his eyebrows, suddenly nonplussed. Charlie’s youth caught him off guard. The boy was only sixteen. Was he capable?

 

"Document this."

 

"You got it." Charlie rummaged through his pack and pulled out a roll of parchment and a quill of vibrant cerulean.

 

"My Lords and Ladies!" Jacob spoke meekly, bowing briefly. " ’Tis an honor to have you hear me...I come from Telam you see...and I live 'bout near the border of Venz and such and there be bandits there that always make me give half me earnings, I—"

 

"Bandits? Have you reported this to my offices?" Heather Melrue asked harshly.

 

"Y-yes, Your Grace, I sent several letters, no one has come... they have already threatened to burn me farm and it's all I have you see and the collectors already have me in debt since I must pay them. My family is in danger most of tha' time you know..."

 

"We have received no such reports. It would have been upon my desk first thing if..."

 

"Where exactly in Telam?" Braden cut off Melrue.

 

"Near the Sesticant Falls, my Lord, near Venz..."

 

"And you sent how many letters to the Duchy Office?" the Lord Regent inquired.

 

"Four." Jacob replied. Murmurs rushed across the crowd.

 

"Four?" Braden glared at the duchess; she sank into her seat. "I will see to it personally that a paladin and several soldiers are dispatched to that area. Your debt is no more. I will also have a sum of money assigned to your family to make up for the losses. On behalf of the Crown..." Braden looked to Duchess Melrue, "and the Duchy of Telam, I apologize."

 

"Oh...My Lord!" Jacob bowed continuously, "Thank you...tha—" Shouting could be heard at the door. The Royal Guards turned and aimed their spears in that direction. Braden stood. Sydney bolted past Braden, vaulted off the platform and drew his sword. The crowds began to shift and yell loudly.

 

"What is going on?" Juliana cried out. A man pushed through the crowd. He was tattered, disheveled, and dusty, as if he had traveled for ages. Several more Royal Guards entered the room. These held sidearms, which they aimed at the man as he stumbled across the crimson rug.

 

"Get on the ground!" Sydney roared to the man. Now!” He held up his hand, the other guards lowered their weapons briefly. The man wheezed and sprinted towards the High Table. Sydney stepped into the man’s path and knocked him down with the hilt of his sword. The man hissed and clawed at Sydney.

 

"What is your business here?" Braden roared. The man looked up, his eyes lit up for a moment.

 

"Him...let me....him let me speak...to him...!" The man pointed a crooked finger at Braden. The hilt of Sydney's sword was near the man’s throat; the High Captain glanced toward Braden. The Lord Regent nodded.

 

"What business do you have disrupting Elijah's court?"

 

"I ... I come...for your help... Braden Extollere... he is alive...." the man rasped.

 

"Who?"

 

"The Speaker...sealed in twilight and shadow, life and death, between the threads of death....tangled...Kalem... she seeks you ...the lover of your Great Prophet..."

 

"He speaks riddles...guards!" Juliana motioned swiftly with her hand.

 

"Jeremy?" Braden gasped. "No! Leave him! What is your name, man?" The Lord Regent demanded. He strode from the table and stood beside Sydney, facing the man. Braden stared into his craggy face, weather-beaten as if by the sea. "Where do you hail from?"

 

"Gildet..." the man moaned, he curled into a ball, in obvious pain.

 

"Gildet? There is no such place within Elijah."

 

The man lashed out, pointing; the guards flinched. Braden jumped. "It is beyond...Elijjjahhh.... beyond..." the man hissed.

 

"Impossible," Sydney growled. "Let me remove him, my Lord, he is clearly deranged."

 

"Where is this Gildet?" Braden asked. "If I brought a map, could you show me?" The man nodded. "A map. Now!" Charlie rushed down from the High Table, skidding to a halt near Braden.

 

"Here." Braden snatched the map and pushed it out before the vagrant.

 

"Show me,” Braden demanded. A crooked finger pointed off to the corner of the map, into the sea.

 

"That is not right. There are no documented lands in that direction," Charlie spoke up.

 

"He is right. There is nothing beyond..."

 

"Yes... you are blind, a book...the Lifebender...She told me of a book ... the name...Sorj. Look to Sorj and it will say the Truth.. help us...Set'nularen, we are too...children of the Prophet... death wages and they use a weapon they have found...the Speaker..."

 

"Sydney," Braden breathed softly.

 

"Yes, milord?"

 

"Take him to the infirmary, get him fixed up. I will finish here and we shall discuss this in my study." Braden turned and made his way back to the High Table.

 

As the man was taken away he yelled, "You must go now, Braden of Elijah! You must go now! He will turn ...to dust..."

 

The Lord Regent stopped, turned on his heel and stared after the man, seeing nothing but madness in his eyes. The doors shut behind him, and First Day continued without further interruption.