Dragonflywriting

Prologue
Alieané

Alieané ran, the flaming red of her robe and unkempt hair flowing behind her like live flames, consuming her utterly, like the claustrophobic smotherings of the Sariean Priests who now tore after her down the endless stone corridors, open to the night sky, and still a prison- her own, unique cell.
“Find the Naerian!” The cry resounded throughout the temple, pale, lightless yellow flames bursting to light behind her, “Do not let her come to harm!”
She laughed as she ran, reveling in the silvery reverberations of her own crazed shrieks. She felt alive now, more than she had in what felt like forever. Not since her life had ended with Reaj’s. For a moment she felt completely free, wild and closer to the sky than ever, where she felt sure Reaj was. She reached her hand to the far away stars and felt for a moment that she could catch one in her hand. How small it looked- her hand. Sickly. No wonder the Sarieans were so worried about her health. Not that they cared about her personally- just a bunch of religious bastards, intent on saving themselves from their own personal damnation. She laughed again and ran faster.
All at once she came up short at the end of the hall, a sheer drop to the hard sandy ground hundreds of feet below. For a moment her mortality overtook her, and she screamed like one who is close to true death, her sandaled feet skidding to a stop on the sandstone, and then, in a pique of adrenalin and emotion, her thoughts arranged themselves properly and the scream turned once again into a shriek of deranged laughter, and she turned to face the priests who, following her laughter, now skidded to a stop, fear overtaking their cold eyes as they panicked at the sight of their precious Naerian so close to the sheer, cold drop.
Perfect thought Alieané and she felt her features stretching into that inhuman grin that the laughter placed on her face. For a moment the smile felt unfamiliar to her, after all, what was there to smile about? That she would finally be with Reaj once again, in eternity? Did she really believe that? That she would be with him? That all good people went to paradise when they died?
Good?! She thought, and laughed, before repeating the word out loud. “Good!” she shrieked at the terrified priests, “What is good? There is no real good is there? No. And there is no paradise. There is only one place where we can be stripped of all our evils good and rewarded accordingly, and that is an eternity of nothingness!”
Nothing. To be nothing. To simply cease to exist. It would be a relief surely- a release from pain, but… she flinched, it frightened her. But she shook her head again, suddenly acutely aware of her crazed appearance, of the pained look of the priests… And who was she to be having second thoughts, when it was too late, far too late for her…
“Alieané!” the voice was recognizable to her, the high priest, the Udear. He pushed to the front of the crowd, his ornate nightrobes and ever-present head-dress askew. His face seemed more lined than ever, his sharp silver eyes full of- Alieané was surprised to see- pain. “Alieané.” He said again, “Please come back from there. You cannot possibly wish to destroy so much.
Alieané paused. He believed it. He believed it so ardently. How could someone give themselves over to something so completely, with no logical thought, no proof…
It’s like love. She thought dully, and her eyes snapped back to the Udear, suddenly hating him, as she always had.
“You took him away from me.” She said, her voice slow and dripping with the hate, like a real liquid thing flowing from her mouth, “You deserve to die, and I wish that your insane belief were true so that I could kill you all with this act.” And she stepped back again, an inch closer to the end, to nothing.
“Alieané.” He was pleading now. Pleading for himself, she realized disgustedly, no one else.
“Yes, Alieané…” the other priest were speaking now, advancing on her spurred by the Udear, “Come back with us, Princess.” They chanted, “We will put you back on your pedestal and surround you with silks and diamonds, and keep you safe, and give you everything you ever wanted.”
“I want my parents.” She said, in the same hateful voice, “I want Reaj. I want everyone you ever killed to protect me! To protect yourselves! I want this war to end, I want it all to end! No!” her breathing was heavier now, it was suddenly hard to move, to stand, to exist, “I don’t care!” she screamed, “You can destroy yourselves, sink into your own pools of blood, I don’t CARE any more! I don’t care!”
She was crying, the tears streaming down her face, when she thought she didn’t have any more. She had cried all her tears, so this must be her soul, leaving her and dripping in glistening droplets onto the dry ground, leaving her empty, devoid of everything. No hate. No pain. No love. Just thought. Just her, and she would be soon be gone.
“I have nothing.” She said, her voice flat, hoarse from screaming. “Nothing left…”
And she locked eyes with the Udear, and her voice filled with emotion once more, but this was not the dripping hate of before. It was a light, soaring, booming voice that reached the stars and caught them and made her words inevitable, and real and unescapable.
“God damn you.” She said, “God damn you all to Hell.”
And she stepped back and fell to her death.

+ + +

Book One
Reaj

Chapter One

The Prince of Kavtkan was born with eyes of the deep, soulless blue that all infants have when they first enter the world. His twin brother was as well. There was no difference between the twins. Both were large, strong infants with perfect pale skin and night black hair, true Kavtkanians in every respect. But Reaj was born first, and the other child, the one without a name, for it had no need of one, was killed, smothered to death as his brother watched. For that was the way of things in the Kavtkan. There could be no competition for the throne, no doubts about who would rule. Reaj was born a prince, and his brother, an abnormality, a sin, a heretic.
The Queen of Kavtkan killed the boy herself. As a mother, she did not want to. She saw both boys and saw that they were both beautiful, and both blessed, but she knew that to give life to both of them would mean death and damnation for herself and her children. So she did what was needed, and when both the boys were placed screaming in their prams, she rose carefully from her bed and, as the servants watched, she smothered the unholy child with his velvet cloth until he moved no longer, and the body was taken out by the servants to be burned, deep in the forest.
Reaj watched this all from his own pram, dark eyes bright and wondering. He did not understand yet about life and death, about the meaning of right and wrong, damnation and salvation. It is possible that he comprehended nothing but the bright shapes, moving before his eyes and wondered at them. But it is also possible that he remembered everything that he saw, and carried the memory and bitterness with him to the end of his days. No one was ever to know.
It is also interesting to note that by the end of the month, the Queen was dead. Some said it was punishment, for her bearing of an unholy child, and some said it was weakness, that she had killed herself, for guilt and grief of the anomaly, and some people said quite sensibly that her body simply could not withstand the pressure of bearing two children, and she died from exhaustion.
Reaj’s care was given over to tutors and governesses, as it would have been in any circumstance, and he grew quickly, proving to be a very intelligent and capable child. His eyes did not change from their deep blue colour, but remained the same as he grew, which was another source of controversy among the people. Some said that he was soulless, and some said that he was a god.
Finally the King consulted a priest, who retreated into solitude for several days, finally emerging to announce that the prince was a sign from the gods. Kavtkan was strong, and powerful. It was a nation of warriors. It would grow, said the priest. Much blood would be shed, and the King of Kavtkan would become the king of the world. No armies may oppose the Forces of Kavtkan, so long as they were led by the boy with the night blue eyes.
Riots broke out immediately after the announcement was made. The priest was assassinated as he spoke and several attempts were made on the small prince. A civil war broke out, the likes of which had never been recorded. Neighbours became enemies, brothers killed eachother. A large faction of peacekeepers was created, and for several years, war raged across the country, between the armies of the king, and the rebel peacekeepers.
Reaj was five years old when he was captured by the peacekeepers, who called themselves the Navin. At midnight, a large group raided the castle, killing soldiers and sabatoging supplies and militia. Reaj covered himself with his blanket and remained as still a he could when they broke into his room and stabbed his governess, but his muffled scream when he heard the stabbing gave him away, and he felt the blanket ripped off of him, and was blinded by the light of a torch, as loud arguments broke out around him.
“It’s the prince!”
“With the night eyes! Kill him”
“No! We can’t!”
“We should take him hostage!”
“He’s too dangerous to be left alive!”
“Look at him, Kearn, he’s a boy!”
“He’s a killer!”
Reaj started to cry, and was immediately swept up by warm, strong arms.
“Stop it, all of you!” said a loud demanding voice. It was female, Reaj realized, although low, with a strange lilt to it, “Can’t you see he’s frightened.”
There was silence from the crowd. Reaj blinked, wondering why his eyes weren’t adjusting for a moment, before he realized that all his captors were hooded and cloaked.
“Mikela…” began one of the cloaked figures, “That boy…”
“Is innocent!” finished the woman, “He’s coming with us, and mark my words, any one of you who so much as touches him will be answering to me. Got it?”

The next few hours were a blur of darkness, lights, flickerings and far off cries. Reaj hid his face, and tried his best to block out the noise, fatigue and terror overtaking him. When the noises finally abated, he found himself in complete darkness, surrounded by urgent whispering voices, and on a hard floor, with only a rough blanket to wrap around himself like a protective cocoon. The air was moist, with a repulsive stench, and constant dripping, echoing sounds floated towards him on all sides.
After a few moments, there was a shuffling next to him, and a torch suddenly flared to life, assaulting the boy’s sensitive eyes. Reaj cried out and there was a scoffing noise from the bearer of the torch, and a humourless chuckle from the inhabitants of the room. There were several of them, over twenty, Reaj realized, and the room was not a room at all, but a chamber, dank and wet, with decaying brick walls. The claustrophobic feel of the place, coupled with the grim, frightening faces of the men and woman who were now removing their hoods and staring at him, was so horrifyingly alien to Reaj, that he felt his head begin to swim, and his stomach to lurch nauseously with fear. And the smell- it was like nothing the he had ever experienced before. So strong that it made one all at once wish to heave, vomit, or even lose consciousness, just to be free of it for a few moments.
“Some warrior prince he is.” Said a voice with a chuckle, although not a cruel one, as Reaj flinched at the the light. The voice had the same lilt to it as the voice of the woman who had first picked him up, Reaj realized, and sure enough, she was there, stepping in front of Reaj, and shooing them away.
“Go on, get out, all of you. Leave the poor lad in peace for a little while. We’ll decide on what to do with him tomorrow.”
There was a dark, low muttering from the crowd, but eventually the crowd began to retreat, until only two men were left, one, a tall, broad man, with dirty copper-coloured hair and a dark, lined face, and a smaller, thinner man, with a long, ugly face, dark, greasy hair, and scraggly beard.
The woman looked at them in turn. “Sage… Kearn.”
“Mikela…” said the first man, Sage, the one with the lilt similar to Mikela’s, “Are you sure…”
“He’s a boy, Sage.” Said Mikela, “A frightened one. He’s no danger to anyone.”
“I know that sister,” replied Sage, sounding tired, “It’s just… the politics…”
“He means you should be careful not to be seen as… fraternizing...” finished the other man, Kearn. Somewhere in the deep shock-ridden parts of Reaj’s mind, he remembered Kearn’s voice as the one that had suggested he be killed immediately. He felt an immediate dislike for him.
Mikela looked for a moment as if she were going to argue further, but she merely sighed and shooed the two men from the room. Then she turned to Reaj, who flinched.
“It’s alright, love. I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Her voice had softened, the lilt giving it an almost musical quality, and Reaj calmed slightly, and managed a smile. It was, after all, in his best interests to make this woman like him.
“I know.” He said, attempting to sound brave, “Where are we?”
“The sewers.” Replied Mikela, and Reaj flinched in disgust.
Mikela laughed at the boy’s expression and said, “You’ll get used to the smell.”
“How long am I to stay here?” asked Reaj. His voice sounded strange to him. Not that it was abnormal in any way, but he was not used to speaking, unless expressly ordered to, which he was not often. He wasn’t overly shy, but in the castle there was little conversation to make, except with himself, and his governesses, and he preferred not to speak with them, whenever possible.
A chill ran through him as he remembered the fate of his last governess. He had liked her well enough, and the thought of her death gave him a strange feeling of emptiness that he did not understand, and did not like at all. It had been Kearn that killed her. He was sure of it.
It took him a moment to realize that Mikela had not answered his question. She was not looking at him either. “Mikela?” He said, using her name, not boldly, but because he did not know of a title to use instead, “When can I go back?”
The woman sighed, and looked up at him, “Do you want to go back, love?”
“Yes.”
“Well then… Perhaps soon. But not right away. You probably don’t understand, but there are things that you don’t know about. Terrible things that have been said… about you…”
“That I am to become a warrior prince, and lead Kavtkan to war and conquest?” said Reaj, unable to stop a hint of pride from making it’s way, if not into his voice, then into his eyes, “I know.”
Mikela looked at him for a moment with a strange expression on her face. Then she nodded and spoke again, in a low voice, not the soft soothing on she had used on him before, nor the cold commanding voice she had used when speaking to the men. It was a quiet, clear voice- sad, and full of something that had never existed.
“Yes…” she said, “That… is what they’ve said. I hope that…” She paused for a long time, the air tense with her unspoken wish. Then she broke off, and saying nothing more, walked quickly from the room, leaving Reaj alone, in the damp dark cave.

Reaj slept then. A deep, bottomless sleep that seemed all at once to be the best rest he had ever gotten, and the most fitful night he had ever spent in his life. For he dreamed that night, although what of, he was not sure. He had a glimpse of several things, and they seemed very important to him, although when he awoke, he had no recollection of what they were. He remembered the feeling though, and when he awoke, he simply lay there for several minutes, letting the feeling course through him, wanting to hold onto it for as long as he could. He had no name for this feeling, no way to describe it, and no reason for it. He wasn’t even sure that he liked it. But it was the strongest thing he had ever felt, and for that, he did not want to let it go.
After a while, his memories came back to him, and he opened his eyes slowly. Someone had replaced the torch on the wall, so he assumed that several hours had passed, but he had no way of knowing, far from the sun as he was. He was alone, and the damp stench of the sewers had crept into the ratty blankets as he slept, and into his nightclothes. Disgusted, he threw the blankets off of him, and stood uncertainly.
His mind had cleared in his sleep, dispelling the shock that he now realized had been clouding his thoughts, his ability to judge. But now his mind was back, and he knew without a doubt that he had only two options.
Whatever Mikela had said about keeping him alive, discussing politics and options, he knew that if he stayed here, they would kill him. These were the Navin. He had heard about them, listened to his governesses curse their heads and preach their damnation. They were his enemy- like all those who denied the sacred prophecy.

Piczo