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Author's Note: You might want to read This
Strange Place Called Home in order to become more familiar with the characters
of this story.
In a silent graveyard in a faraway land, the stars twinkled
brightly upon tombstones. A dreary air of foreboding filled the cemetery on
this, the night of the dark moon. Strange things can happen on such a night,
the villagers whispered, when that silvery lunar light isn't there to guide
your way.
One forlorn grave sat at the edge of the cemetery,
unadorned by flowers or sentiments of any kind. Only a simple, square headstone
sat, reading, "Darigan" in small, simple letters. Even the stars seemed to twinkle
more coldly on this grave. He was one whom no one missed. One whom all were
glad to see gone. A tyrant at best, a madman at worst. This was someone whom
no one wanted to see again…
Suddenly, almost silently, the earth shifted.
Dirt was displaced, and caved in to create a small hole. The "Darigan" headstone
crumbled and fell inward. And a night-black, clawed hand poked out…
* * *
Beakers. Rows upon rows of glass and wooden beakers, bowls, vials, spoons,
and measuring cups, all lay over a long, wooden table. A single shaft of sunlight
shone through an arrow slit in the wall, piercing the nearly complete darkness
of the castle tower, illuminating dust motes that drifted to the floor. Perfect
lighting for Kayla's experiment. With a flick of her wrist, the red Zafara added
a drop of a greenish-blue liquid into a beaker of crimson goop. The goop sizzled
for a moment, made a hissing sound, then was quiet. "Perfect," she whispered,
drawing her starry Kauvara-like cape closer around her to ward off the chill
that always presided over the tower areas. "Just need to add the finishing touch…"
She picked up a bottle of a vile-smelling black liquid…
"Hey!" Lisha the yellow Aisha yelled enthusiastically,
throwing open the door to the alchemy lab. Startled, Kayla jumped, accidentally
dropping the bottle. The glass shattered and a minor explosion seemed to rock
the tower, upsetting the beaker of goop and setting Kayla's cape aflame. Panicking,
Kayla began running around the room in circles. Thinking fast, Lisha tackled
her friend and rolled her around until the flames were put out.
"Thanks," Kayla said breathlessly, leaning on
a table with her paw on her chest.
Lisha shook her head despairingly. "Why're you
thanking me? I started the fire, remember?"
Still panting, Kayla shrugged her shoulders
as if to say, "It's no big deal."
"So, how're the potions?" Lisha asked, falling
to her knees and examining the burn marks in the floor. They weren't bad enough
to make the floor cave in, but they would have to be repaired.
"Fine. Although, Lisha, do you really think
we're going to need so many healing potions?"
"I'd just do whatever Kasha Moonfang tells me
to, if I were you." The yellow Aisha said, referring to the Kyrii Seer's young
apprentice. "After all, when she has premonitions, she's usually ri-"
A hollow thud interrupted Lisha in the middle
of her sentence, and a sudden wave of nausea consumed her. Falling to her knees,
the Aisha knight had a few premonitions of her own. And none of them were good.
* * *
Meanwhile, the pages (or young knights-in-training) were practicing their
moves in the castle courtyard. Among them was 10-year-old Chuck Foxpaw the red
Kyrii, one of the most cunning children Jeran knew. He also happened to be his
brother. Jeran sat, dressed in a simple pair of breeches and tunic, his back
against the castle wall. Chuck was mounted on a Uni steed, a lance in his paw
and getting ready to charge at a target that the Ultimate Bullseye Turtum had
lent to the pages. Other children lined up against the castle wall watched in
fascination as Chuck dug his heel into the Uni's side and whispered a command.
"Charge." The Uni gave a whinny and obliged, hooves scarcely touching the soil
as he raced towards the target. Chuck barely noticed the speed at which he was
traveling; so intent was his concentration on the target. He lowered his lance,
then raised it an inch…
And missed the target completely. A resounding
thump had sounded from one of the sandier areas of the courtyard. Startled,
the Uni reared and whinnied in panic. Throwing his arms around the Uni's neck
and clinging for dear life, Chuck dropped his lance, which rolled harmlessly
to the side. Anxiously, Jeran rose. "What the…"
Whatever had fallen has raised quite a cloud
of dust around it. Coughing and sputtering, Jeran approached the dust and waited
for it to settle, drawing his sword… just in case.
When the dust finally settled, there lay Galgarrath,
Darigan's Grarrl battle master. Dead as a doornail.
Within seconds, a small crowd had formed around
the courtyard. The pages crowded around, jumping up and down, eager for a better
look. Ladies screamed and fainted. Knights and noblemen gave the Grarrl a look
of repulsion. Peasants backed away from him as though he carried a plague, but
still jumped around trying to see him. People everywhere were whispering in
low, hushed voices as though they were afraid Kass might hear. And together,
their whispers made a chatter so deafening, Lisha could scarcely hear herself
think. Lisha and Kayla had raced down from the tower and were struggling through
the crowd to get to Jeran. "Jeran!" Lisha called. "What in the name of bloomin'
Buzzes is going on here?"
"You think I know?" the Lupe knight said, his
voice made sharp with anxiety. "He must've fallen from the citadel…"
By now, King Skrarl had come out to see what
all of the fuss was about. A silver Draik boy with a trumpet announced his arrival
with a few energetic toots. The crowd hushed. "People of Meridell!" Skrarl said
gruffly. "Don't worry yourselves like this! The idiot Grarrl must've made a
misstep and slipped off the citadel. We'll have him cleaned up in an hour. There
is no need to worry!" That seemed to be enough of an explanation for the peasants,
who quickly returned to their farms, glad for an excuse to leave. After a few
moments of pondering their king's words, the noblemen and women left too. It
was a good enough excuse for them. The pages, unfazed by what had taken place,
were already back on their steeds and charging at the target again. All except
for Chuck Foxpaw. "Jeran?" he asked. "Why do you look so worried?"
"No reason, Chuck," Jeran lied. Then, spying
his Lupess on the edge of the courtyard, he ran to her, paws outstretched. "Kasha!"
"Jeran!" Kasha Moonfang cried, embracing the
knight. She is the most beautiful Lupess in Meridell and perhaps in Neopia as
well. Jeran thought, admiring her glistening snow-white fur, beautiful eyes,
and slender muzzle. Bangles and bracelets adorned her slender, graceful paws.
She was dressed in the simple garb of a gypsy, her lavender dress flowing to
her ankles. Her slim, snow-white foot paws were bare. As always, she was wearing
her trademark earrings. On her left ear, one chandelier earring from which six
silver moons dangled. On her right, a chandelier earring with six golden moons.
Jeran reached under his tunic and felt his necklace, one of her chandelier sun-earrings
that she had given to him on a gold chain as a token of her love for him. "Kasha…
what just happened here?"
"I've been crystal-gazing," the Lupess said.
"I'm getting better at it, Jeran. Not getting actual images, I'm still too inexperienced
for that. Just feelings… omens, of sorts…"
"And?" Jeran asked softly, reminding the Lupess
to get to the point.
"Yonder Grarrl is going to be the first casualty
in a long and painful fight."
"What? Against whom? Why? How?" Jeran asked
anxiously, peppering the poor Lupess with other assorted questions. Without
warning, Kasha burst into tears. Lisha smacked her brother on the back of the
head with the butt of her Rod of Ultranova. "You fool! You made her cry!"
"It's not my fault!" This comment earned him
another smack.
Lisha crouched down next to Kasha. "There, there.
It's all right."
"No, it's not all right. And it'll never be
all right. Something bad's coming, Lisha… and I don't know what it is, or who's
sending it… or what to do about it!" The Lupess wiped her tears on Lisha's tunic.
"Suppose we'll get any trouble from Kass?" Jeran
asked, gazing at the ominous cloud above them. "Or Dr. Sloth?"
"Sloth has been in hiding for months now," Lisha
said, getting a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket and handing it to Kasha,
who blew her nose loudly. "And relations have been good with Kass. His people
and ours have been at peace. And he's a much more diplomatic ruler than Darigan
was."
Jeran nodded. "Well, I'll tell His Majesty about
Kasha's premonitions. I am, after all, his adopted son. She's been having them
for a while now, hasn't she?"
"Never as strongly as this," Kasha said. By
now she had finished crying, but still breathed in short, distressed gasps.
"Tell Kayla to make as many healing potions as she possibly can. We'll need
them…"
* * *
"But you've got to listen to me!" Jeran pleaded, hastening his pace to match
those of the king. They were heading to the throne room from the courtyard,
flanked on all sides by Draik guards. "Kasha's Seer intuition has never failed
us before. Remember when she foretold the fact that a band of raiders were going
to raid Fief Applevale in the south?"
"Don't get me wrong, Jeran. I'm not accusing
your Lupess of lying. I'm merely saying she may have made some mistake…"
"No mistake, sire! None!"
"Jeran, who in their right mind would want to
attack our peaceful kingdom? Certainly not Dr. Sloth, Lord Kass, or any of the
people whom you so fear."
"I don't fear them!" Jeran said, teeth clenched.
"I just want to be prepared! That's all!"
"Jeran, we're not a prosperous kingdom. Though
we're certainly not poor, no one would want to go through the trouble of conquering
us for money. We have no enemies. Lord Kass has been our friend and protector
for about a year now." He stopped, then gently nudged a Draik guard aside so
that he could throw open a window. "See how tranquil it is out there, Jeran?
Late afternoon, the rays of the sun turning from gold to red, flaming in the
west. Birds flocking to their nests and farmers watering their fields. Certainly
not the picture of a country soon to be at war."
"This is the calm before the storm, sire!" Jeran
protested.
"Nonsense," the king said in his 'and that's
final' voice. Whenever the king used that voice, you didn't argue with him unless
you wanted to serve time in the dungeons for your insolence. Head hung in shame,
Jeran stalked off, defeated.
On his way to his bedchamber, Jeran gazed out
another window. Skrarl was right. The day was beautiful. Birds sang their melodies
sweetly, the air smelled of fresh vegetables and rich soil. The sky was virtually
cloudless. Except for one stray wisp of cloud near the sun, painted lavender
and scarlet by its rays. Can that tiny puff grow into a fearsome thundercloud?
Can it destroy crops, lives, an entire kingdom with its fury? Can the death
of a single Grarrl foretell a great and terrible war?
This was only the calm before the storm…
The End
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