The Moonlight Pegasus, #1 Read online

  It was here on this throne that the present King of Sapphira, King Lukiahs, presently sat. He was a man of many years, and his body was deteriorating more and more as the days and months went by. His silver hair, once colored brilliant ebony, had turned almost white over the long years. Though he sat on his comfy, well-cushioned throne, his back was aching, and despite all the treatments and pills, his skin was full of wrinkles. He had been a strong ruler in his day, his eyes full of fire and his sword held with steady hands. But lately, the once shining green eyes had grown listless and weary; the complexion of his skin, typically luminous as all royalty was, had faded to the point that when the public saw him, he had to be painted in a thin coat of moonflower chemicals to match up to his reputation. His weak wrinkled hands were shaking all the time, and he felt his body grow tired and susceptible to the eventual coming of his final twilight years. Today, he had been dressed in his most decorated robes, adding an illusion of power and strength that no longer could be produced involuntarily.

  But it was not this that he was sad at. He felt tired now, but he knew he could not sleep. He had been having a strange dream of late, and he could not rest without knowing what it could possibly mean. King Lukiahs was not one to be foolish, despite his age. And he was worried.

  He’d heard the rumors of the rebellion. He’d heard them all. He’d heard about how the people off of the Continent were unhappy and unsatisfied with his rule. He’d heard about the spies that had been sent to the palace. He’d heard all of the stories of the Islanders attacking the Desert people and pilfering their villages. He’d even seen some locals at the Gemstone Oasis fighting about it at the Waning Moonshine, a popular bar and hangout for the middle class people of Diamond City. His biggest fear, besides becoming the first King in history to be killed by an army of rebels, was that his dream, or rather his nightmare, might have something to do with it.

  There was a soft sound at the end of the room. King Lukiahs looked up to see his most trusted advisor, the high priest Jerommien, making his way over to him.

  “Your Majesty,” Jerommien greeted hastily, “I bring word of both good news and bad news to you today.”

  “Jerommien, we are friends,” the King responded. “You are my most trusted advisor. We can do away with the formalities here.”

  Despite the burden of bad news, the high priest smiled slightly. “All right, we’ll do things your way, Your Maj—I mean, Lukiahs.”

  “Naturally.” The king and Jerommien both laughed. Of course things would be done according to the king’s preference, no matter how outlandish or untraditional it was. The king hated to use formalities with his friends, so they did not use them. It was as simple as that.

  When the laughter died away, the amusement left the priest’s face as he said, “I have a report from Major General Rosemont. He says that the forces of the Rebels have grown in recent weeks and are potentially a threat to you and your family.”

  The king sighed. “So, this is a threat now. Those islanders should be grateful for all I’ve done for them. Free passages across the seas, less taxes, and all that technology given to them ... why are they so intent on being difficult about this?” With saying this, his eyes seemed to grow even more tired, and his skin grew duller, almost like a normal human now.

  “I’m sorry, Luke. There are so many unusual people out there. But on the brighter side, I do have some good news for you.”

  “That’s a relief,” the king muttered, his voice dripping with scorn. He straightened up in his seat, not without some difficulty, and sighed. “Tell me what it is.”

  Jerommien’s eyes glittered in anticipation. He knew the king would be pleased with this information. “Your Majesty, we have found another man who has claimed to be able to interpret your dream.”

  The King threw back his head and laughed, a cruel undertone clearly coming through. “Really, do not bother me with such nonsense today, Jerommien. I am already upset enough. What makes you think that this man will be any different from the last forty men that tried to tell me about my dream? Did you find him on some physic hotline or something? Or did you find another cult running around my planet that has a specialty on this sort of thing?”

  “No, My Liege, I did not. You know as well as I have that I have been making secret inquires, and those who have failed to give you a satisfactory explanation for your dream are all imprisoned until you are fully, and correctly, informed. He came walking normally as you please up to the castle doors, the doors that enter into my wing, and said that he had been sent here by the Guardian himself to interpret your dream, and he could prove it.”

  “Oh, no! Do you not know that there are spies in this castle? No doubt everyone’s heard about me by now!” the king wailed. He stood up, rather suddenly for a man of his age, and slammed his fist angrily onto his throne’s arm. “I will not see him, do you hear? The last thing I need is for some rebel spy telling me that I’m going senile, and that it’s time for the monarchy to either end or be passed along to Prince Dorian, though he’s only eight years old!”

  “Luke, I think you should see him,” Jerommien spoke up a little shakily. He was not used to defying the king’s wishes too often. He was not even used to the King disagreeing with him. “He told me that you would say exactly that, even before you said it. I told him he was crazy for even thinking that you, at your age, and one of your quiet temperaments, would go into a rage such as that. But I see now he was right. I have a feeling he was telling the truth.”

  “Ha! An unlikely tale!” but the King’s voice faltered slightly, betraying his shock and sudden case of doubt. The King did trust his priest. Jerommien had been with him since his father the previous king had died, and Jerommien had always given sound advice. Why would he falter now? There was little but time to be lost in hearing this man out.

  They were both quiet for a long moment before the king let out a deep sigh.

  “Sir?” Jerommien took a cautious step toward his king. He knew that the king was not himself when he was angry. Jerommien knew he had to tread lightly here.

  The King rubbed his temples in exasperation. “Fine, I’ll see him. But, Jerommien, if he tells me that I’m overexerting myself and worried about the coming of war on my planet, like all the others, I’m going to hang every one of those so-called dream interpreters in my prison and I will personally see to it that you are exiled to a faraway island for a good number of days.”

  The high priest grinned. They both knew that the King was only half-serious. Jerommien had never once been punished for anything. The king had always valued his advice and most of the time carried it through, unlike his threats.

  “I’ll send him up, Your Majesty,” Jerommien said, bowing and hurriedly walking to the fetch the man waiting in the priest’s office.

  “I won’t tell you again, Jerommien, it’s Lukiahs!” the King yelled after his friend.

  He watched as the high priest left the room. Another sigh escaped him as he sat down once again in his throne. He grinned ruefully. It seemed lately all he did was sigh.

  A moment later, a viewscreen appeared out of the right armrest of the throne, and the lovely face of his young wife, the Queen, appeared.

  “Your Majesty,” she whispered in reverence to her husband. This was not the same Queen who had given birth to his only child and son, Prince Dorian. Queen Kaena was a relatively new addition to his household, his second wife.

  The King smiled warmly at her, even though he was stressed out. “Yes, my dear?” he responded. “Everything okay?”

  “Oh, yes, everything is quite lovely,” the queen assured him, a smile beginning to show just slightly on her face. “I wanted to make sure that you were feeling okay. You did promise me earlier that you would accompany me for a stroll in the new gardens today.”

  He gave her a blank look. “Oh, I did?” the king asked, a little surprised. “I’m terribly sorry, Kaena, I’m in a meeting right now. Once I am finished with this one, I will come and join you. How is t
hat?”

  Her eyes dropped and her smile faded. She was young yet, only about twenty-one years old. They’d been married for only a short while. King Lukiahs had been coerced into marrying once again at the word of his persistent advisors. They had warned him of only having one heir to his throne. Prince Dorian was a strong child, the King knew, but Dorian also, like most boys his age, tended to be somewhat reckless. And that was dangerous. So the king had agreed, and the councilors, instead of picking an older, more experienced woman to marry him, had chosen Kaena, a young woman with no notion of the world and no will of her own. She was so timid and delicate in her appearance as well as her manner. How she carried herself often caused him to think that she would break into millions of pieces if she fell over.

  “Kaena?” the king asked. “Are you well?” The king, though he did not feel great love for his new wife, he shared some level of small affection for Kaena, and did not wish to see her upset or sick. He also did not want the council members breathing down his neck at his wife’s poor health.

  Her eyes met his once again. King Lukiahs would often remark that Kaena had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen, a golden brown color that enchanted in him thoughts of gold-speckled leaves in the Resting season. “I am fine, My Liege. Thank you for asking. I will await you in the Luxury Garden Hallway.” She bowed once more, and then the viewscreen flickered and died.

  He frowned at the thought of his new wife just then. She was a nice commodity around here, but she could be entirely depressing and uninteresting sometimes, he thought. Well, maybe she still was not accustomed to being here. She had only just arrived a couple of months ago.

  His thoughts turned away from his wife all at once as the door to the throne room once again opened, and the king saw that Jerommien had returned with an unfamiliar face in tow. King Lukiahs saw this man, following along behind the over eager Jerommien with footsteps of steady patience.

  The man was old, like himself, but Lukiahs got the feeling that this man was no one to take lightly due to age. The evidence of a hard, though blessed, life shown on his dark face, as though an extra light was shining on him. He wore the robes of a common man, long and simply cut, and a dark green in color. He had a long, white beard drizzled with gray, and his eyes were buried beneath thick, full, striking white eyebrows. He wore no hat to hide his balding head, and his hands seemed to hold onto each other as he made his way to the King. Everything about him seemed humble, but at the same time, he seemed to exude an unnaturally high amount of wisdom and confidence in himself.

  “Your Majesty,” his voice rumbled deeply as he bowed low. “I am honored to meet you.”

  “Rise,” King Lukiahs waved him off. As the man rose from his bowing position, the king continued with the formal preceding. “I am King Lukiahs, son of King Gammias. I welcome you into my home.”

  The man bowed once again. “I am known to many as the Prophet Haiasi. I have been told from a reliable source, Your Majesty, about your troubled dream. I have come by his command to your aid.”

  “Really? Who is it that has sent you?” the King asked, a little interested in who it was that had leaked out the information. He doubted that this man, this Haiasi, would tell him who it was that had sent him, not wanting to appear to be a fraud, but the King prided himself on the ability to tell when men were lying. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it was easy for Lukiahs to see through a lie.

  “I have been sent by the Guardian of Dreams, sir.”

  “Preposterous,” the King scoffed, though he could not detect a trace of deceit in the man’s tone. “I do not believe it.”

  Haiasi looked away. “I know you do not, Sir, and that is precisely why I have been sent to tell you of your dream.”

  His words had struck a chord in the King. The resounding notes sang a tremor of doom throughout his mind. King Lukiahs had kept the family tradition of having the priests around, but he himself had long ago given up in believing in the power of dreams. What were dreams but illusions of reality? What good would they do for someone like him, who was king over the entire world?

  The Prophet Haiasi stood before him with a look of patience on his aged face. There was a mien to his features, suggesting that he knew along which lines the king was thinking. “Tell me about your dream, sir. I will interpret it for you.”

  Normally, at the thought of doom, King Lukiahs would’ve sent this joker away and dismissed him without a thought. But seeing the eager look on Jerommien’s face, the King decided that he would listen to this Haiasi, and then send him away as quickly as possible. It was after all, the diplomatic thing to do.

  “Well,” the king began, somewhat slowly, “I have been having this dream of late, and I think it is trying to tell me something. In this dream, I am standing on the coast, and I see this black wave forming in the distance in the ocean ... but the unusual thing is, the darkness of it seems to be pouring from the sky, almost from a box. It rises up very high, and blocks out all the grayness of the sun. I can hear in the distance a horse, but I cannot see it. I can only see the wave blocking out the sun. And that’s when I hear a different noise. It sounds like crying. And that’s when blood begins to run out from the sun, and run with the waves. I see myself reach down and taste the water, and I can actually taste the saltiness of tears. After that, everything fades as a bright incredible light, golden and nearly blinding, begins to shine. There are two shadows in it, one of a boy and the other a girl. They are holding onto each other. Then the girl suddenly turns away, and almost disappears into the light before she grabs a hold of the boy. Then the light shines, much brighter than the sun, blocking them out, and the last thing that I can remember is thinking that I have died.”

  The prophet nodded. “I have seen this dream as well. You were right in assuming that the red liquid was blood. A lot of blood, indeed ... ” his voice trailed off. “King Lukiahs, son of Gammias, there is to be a prophecy made today. One of your offspring shall be born at the hands of night’s shadows. At that time, there will be much blood shed indeed, and many tears will be cried. The end of our time of sickness is approaching. We shall be cleansed when the Spirit brings forth the one who will save us and lock away the darkness with his blood.” Haiasi looked intently at the king as he continued. “When a pure princess marries, peace will be restored to this kingdom at last.”

  “What?” the King looked at this man as though he was speaking a foreign language. “I do not believe this.”

  At this, Haiasi’s voice grew strong and full of anger. “You have turned away from your roots, King Lukiahs. You will suffer the penalty. The sickness in you has grown over the years. When all your inner light fades into nothing, the passing of the crown will occur.”

  Even Jerommien looked at Haiasi with disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘inner light’? I don’t understand.”

  Haiasi’s eyes turned to focus on the high priest. “I know you do not. But it would be like explaining to a child what it cannot grasp; I myself do not always understand. But I have faith that I shall know one day.”

  Jerommien and the King still looked dumbstruck at his words. “A ‘passing of the crown’?” the King asked. “It doesn’t mean that I shall be overthrown, does it? And what’s this about a child? I am too old to have a child. I have been tested by the best medical doctors on this entire planet, and it has been proved that I have no longer the capabilities to reproduce.”

  “You do not have the capabilities to see past yourself, either,” the Prophet shook his head sadly. “Your world is all about you. You can no longer see the light, nor can you spread it. You will gather up your glow that is left and hold tightly to it, but eventually you will suffocate it in your grasp and kill it.”

  The King was angry now. “You have some nerve, saying these things to the King of this entire planet!”

  “You forget that I have been called here by the one who has made this entire planet!” Haiasi’s voice echoed throughout the room, followed by a moment of deafening silence. His eyes
softened as he saw the startled look on the faces of Jerommien and the King. His voice quieted as he continued. “A dream once dreamt cannot be undreamt. And a dream once corrupted cannot be saved until the dream once again knows purity, just as a crooked line cannot be called crocked unless there is an idea of a straight line.”

  “What’s this about lines now?” the King looked from Haiasi to Jerommien and back to Haiasi in utter confusion.

  Haiasi sighed. The King was not following him at all. “You have been warned, King Lukiahs. Mark my words, by the end of today, you will know who is in control of your destiny!” At this, the King felt his anger and impatience get the better of his judgment at last.

  “Get out! Get out now!” King Lukiahs threw himself out of his chair and pointed angrily at the door. “I demand that you leave at once, Prophet! Do not think of coming back here. You will only come back at my biding, and I can guarantee that will never happen!”

  Haiasi bowed once more, and then turned to leave. His steps were still slow and full of patience. Lukiahs kept his gaze on Haiasi’s plain figure until he was at last out of the room.

  When the prophet was at last gone, the King slumped lazily back into his throne, exhausted from the confrontation. Wearily, he held out his hand towards his priest. “Jerommien,” his voice whispered. “Get me the moonshine, would you? The strong kind.” When Jerommien looked hesitant at this, the King glared at him and yelled, “The Moonshine! Now!”