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/Chapter Two: Priscas, the sage, and Naiya, the Blue Lady/ Braeden had never felt such loathing for another being before, and yet he had never seen such beauty. The girl who stood before him had to have been around the age of eighteen. She was thin and slender, with long blue hair and beautiful pure blue eyes the same color as the water that he had plunged through. He felt as if in a trance until he suddenly came to his senses – what creature not belonging to the devil could have such a beautiful figure? What kind of being – be it man or elf – could have blue hair? Without knowing it, his hand automatically clutched a locket around his neck - a golden locket containing a coin-sized ruby jewel- and he thought of his mother, his six younger siblings, and his diseased father. Glancing back up at the figure with her back away from him, hate settled into his heart to replace the sudden awe which had come about on its own accord - hate along with fear, lots and lots of fear. This world is much unlike the world that you live in, little human creature. Magic, though uncommonly harnessed and put to use, is well known everywhere a living thing breathes in air. There are three peoples: the men – humans, the people of the trees - elves, and the "magicked" people. Each of the peoples had multiple kingdoms and a culture to match that kingdom. Humans were in your image; each of the kind varying from the other. Some were tall, some short, some thin, and some squat. Each had black, red, blond, golden, or brown hair and brown, hazel, green, or blue eyes. They lived to about seventy years or eighty, if they were a lucky sort. They prayed to one god, though through each of the human kingdoms that god varied, be it God himself, Yahweh, Allah, or another. The humans have claimed for their own the 2nd, 3rd, and 5th Kingdoms. The 2nd Kingdom is an inland country known as Hidek. The 3rd Kingdom is in the northern part of the country and is known as Alibozen. Lastly, the 5th kingdom is a large land with rolling hills and it is called Melantha. They are the people of the land – farmers and miners alike, they live with the earth. They tend to be greedy when dealing with gold or with the earth’s natural resources, but aren’t too harsh to the land. Though they have traits of being very loyal and trustworthy, they are very capable of betrayal. Elves appear to be very much like humans, but their beauty of body and mind makes them different, and much more pleasing to the eye. They are tall and slender, very fair of skin and face, and their ears slant into a small point. They can live very long, and are near immortal. The elves claim four kingdoms: the northern forest Silmar (known otherwise as the 1st Kingdom), the harbor valley Bayfelas (the 6th Kingdom), and the small western forest Lemaltrina (or, the 7th Kingdom). They are the people of the trees – wildlife is in their blood, and the stars at night beckon for them to rejoice their heritage to them in song. People of the stars and the trees, they live in the forest, with the forest, and take only what they need and give what they can in return. They are highly respected, dignified, and refined. It was said that the kingdoms were in great danger. Rumor grew in the east of dark shadows lingering on the tips of the vast White Mountains and that it meant something evil was being foretold. This news greatly troubled the Queen of Bayfelas. Her advisors told her that to keep the kingdom in order, there must be a secure throne. Four years ago, after the birth of their seventh child, Paris, Ruby’s husband James perished from pneumonia, and she took up the throne while the land waited for Braeden to come of age. She took this to thought, and understood, so she ordered her son to venture out into the world. The Queen was very-well read and preferred reading fairy tales over all other tales, so she set her eldest son Braeden on a fairy-tale-like quest to find a maiden in distress to save, woo, then marry. This was all so that Bayfelas would have a royal family ruling over it once more, and the people wouldn’t be so uneasy. When the day he set off came, Queen Ruby – for that was her name – gave to Braeden a gold locket strung on a thin golden chain which contained a bewitched ruby jewel. When he asked of its purpose, she replied saying that not only would it remind him of home on his journey, but it also was to give to the girl he shall wed. The charm placed upon the jewel will allow the Queen to know when Braeden would be coming home, and she would be able to see whom her new daughter would be. Braeden gave the Queen a pitiful drooping stare – he did NOT want to do this. With a laugh, the brown-haired, freckled and jubilant woman sent him off on his own without a clue as to where to go or what to do. He was exiled. Exiled from his entire homeland and disowned from his family simply to encourage him to wed a woman. He felt confused, and he acted as if he were stumbling throughout this odeal. Braeden was thoroughly bewildered. So with just a cloak and a walking stick but for the clothes on his back, he wandered. He wandered so far, it seemed as if it would never be possible to even find out which way the sixth kingdom would be. In reality, he had traveled far from the capitol city Tremain and had unknowingly passed through the dangerous Mount Irrylni Pass, where flaming liquid rocks cover the pass, killing everything in its way when the mountains rulers are angered. He had continued east-ward halfway up Anstice Mountain of the 2nd Kingdom, then north-west into the third kingdom. Completely lost, and only recognizing the area he was in as being Albozen, the 3rd Kingdom, by the human dwellings littering the place, he eventually sought mercy at an old hut in the midst of nowhere. It was run down and made from moldy straw and old mud, yet from a small opening towards the rear of it, smoke poured out as if a fire was going. He knocked on the poorly made wooden door. It swung open with a loud creak, and behind it was the owner of the home. The woman was very short, squat, and wrinkled beyond all count of years. She looked at him with a wisdom-filled eye. “Come,” she said, her voice a large croak. “We have much to talk of, Prince Braeden of Bayfelas.” He wondered at how she knew his name, and entered the little hut. He sat down on the edge of a small cot-like straw mattress, which was the only place he could sit down in the cramped space. The prince felt a sudden wish to be at home. He did not know how long it had been since he was in his comfy bed and with his head on a downy feather-filled pillow, and he had a newly acquired pity for the poverty of some in the realm. This old woman had wrinkles all over her body, bags under her eyes, and she shook in everything she did. Braeden watched her as she set a teakettle over the fire to warm and questioned how she could even stand up with such frail bones. She fiddled with spices and herbs and a small wooden bowl and started a conversation. “I know what you seek, and I know you have no idea where to find it.” He looked at her. “You seem to know so much about everything, and yet you seem so alone and cut off from the world. Also, Grandmother, you know nearly everything about me, yet in retrospect, I know so little – nothing, really - about you.” “I know everything, young lad,” the old ancient chuckled. “These old eyes cannot see. These sagged ears cannot hear. This tongue cannot taste, this wrinkled skin cannot feel. I just Know all there is to Know.” “Then you are a sage?” “Hmmmmm...” she paused, breathing loudly. “Yes. Yes, Yes I am, young master. A seer chosen by the gods who fashioned the world hundreds of thousands of years ago. I am the keeper of Knowledge. I am called Priscaz, the Sage of Wisdom.” The conversation died down for a bit, until the tea was ready. After she poured two age-old mugs full of water, she made tea from leaves separate from the herbal assortment she had put together in her bowl. She put in no sugar, for it seemed she could not afford to buy it, had she been a normal peasant. Braeden was quite accustomed to tea made with milk and sugar and looked around to see where she might have kept them. He found nothing. The old crone turned to Braeden and whispered something in a snakelike language. “Hanousss essschi nihouna milengala nisssau iish sieth.” She threw the contents of the bowl into one of the mugs, and a flash of light appeared, and when it faded, a dark black cloud hovered over Braeden’s mug. “Aha! You were an evil overlord of a distant world in a past life and in another world.” The woman said jokingly as she saw the look of shock on the prince’s face while emerging her hand into the pitch-black puff of smoke to find the flagon. “Drink the tea.” Braeden took a gulp of the lukewarm drink, yet immediately spat it out, disgusted. “What is this?! The taste is horrific!” “It is just a tea made with flakes of dragon hide, some components of misoun soup, seaweed, and mint. Very good for you.” He made a face and set the flagon back down. “There is no way I am drinking that.” "Drink it." she demanded. Sheepishly, he obeyed. The concoction was sticky and warm. Its rancid taste coated his tongue, throat, and lips. (This time, however, he was able to keep it in his mouth just long enough to swallow) After he had finished, the elder snatched the mug from him and peered into the bottom at the soggy leaves, herbs, and grasses. She turned the cup every which way and after an hour or so, Braeden had long since fallen into a deep, wearied slumber on the musty mattress and the Sage finally peered up from the pattern revealed in the leaves and fixed her stare on the face of the man. [True evil never sleeps so deeply], she thought to herself. [Yet only that of terrible powers can drink this mixture - the devil himself would call it horrid and unbearable. And this young man, a mere boy can drink a full flagon --? I was joking before, when I said he was evil. But is he really a...?] Waving a hand over his face cabalistically, she stated decisively. "You are not meant for THIS pitiful quest.“ She looked out the one window of her hut and stared at the black sky. [Winds are shifting and times are changing... I must do something about this boy.] Braeden awoke in a valley on very soft mosses and grass. The sun was shining and not too far off was a village surrounded by much farmland. He saw no sign of the hut of Priscaz, and in fact, the land he had been in was far too rocky and had soil too dry for even remotely successful farming. He walked down to the first man he found - a human farmer ploughing his land. "Excuse me, good sir," he intruded politely. The man obviously had wed an elf, for his eldest son, who was aiding his father in pushing the plough, had slanted ears and both the look of a human and elf. Braeden could not tell where he was from this, for elves and humans usually stay within their own borders. "Well Good morn' to ye Sir Elf. What can we do for ye this lovely forenoon?" "Simple tell me the day and what place I am entering now, if you would please." "Well that village yonder is Pelham of the Kingdom Albozen, and today is May the twenty-third - Wednesdee - year 1630 of the third age." Braeden was surprised. He had left home in July of the year 1628. He must have escaped the winter season while on the mountain Anstice of the 2nd Kingdom Hidek. It had been an entire year! He supposed Queen Ruby was worried sick about him. As he walked through the town, he found but one inn. It was also a pub, and was closed due to renovations. He continued walking, quite hungry, and as he thought, he pretended to be the other worldly evil overlord Priscaz had jokingly made him out to be. Braeden now lay soaking wet on a stone floor with his hands and ankles chained to the granite. He looked around and saw very palace-like rich furnishings. It was almost like home except in an underground cave and had better lighting than at his home. Towards the back of the cave was a large throne, with two smaller and slightly less magnificent chairs in a small semi-circle. In front of these chairs was the woman he was watching. She seemed in charge, and was directing other people, seemingly servants, as to what needed to be done. She completely ignored him for quite a while, until, after she had no more servants around her to instruct, she turned and noticed the prisoner awake. "Ah, you're awake." she said. Her voice was amused, and reminded Braeden of a steady flowing, like water. She calmly walked over to him. She wore a simple sleeveless white dress, which ended at her knees. She knelt down in front of Braeden and sat on her feet comfortably. "Now. Who are you, and what are you doing here?" "Funny." Braeden retorted sourly. "I was going to ask you the same thing, you child of the Devil." "Child of the Devil? Oh come on now, be nice!" "No mortal being would ever have an image such as yours!" "That may be true. But you are of Bayfelas, are you not? Nobles of that place are very puritan and too hasty in their judgement." Braeden swore at her, and she stood up angrily. "Your mother taught you poorly. Haven't you ever been told never to swear in the presence of a lady?!" "I never swear in the presence of a lady. But I do reconsider that when in the presence of one of the devils own --" She cut him off by slapping him across the face. She left two long scratches from her nails. The trickle of blood was only slightly soothing on his hot, flushed cheek, for the wounds stung. "Be glad, man of Bayfelas, that I am forgiving. Neville!" A servant, small and mouse-like in appearance, scurried over. "Take him to his room. Our guest must regain his strength." Neville unchained Braeden and took him by the hand out of the chamber and through many long passages and hallways to a very large, yet quite eerie stone apartment. "This be your room, sir. You aren't to leave it for any reason, unless you are to apologize to Mistress Naiya and tell her your reasoning for your intrusion." "Intrusion?!" He grabbed the servant boy by the collar and held him up from the ground, the boys back pressed against the stone wall. "I did not come here by will alone! What I want to know is what I am doing here! I want to know why I could not follow the villagers but my feet were forcefully taking me to this place! I want to know –-" “That is enough.” That water-like voice stated. Braeden looked to the door with a threatening glare. The blue-haired mistress was staring into the room. Neville slid back down to the floor, breathless. “I knew you were going to pull off something like that. They all did. Neville, you are dismissed.” The boy ran off, wheezing from fright. Braeden glared at the young woman. She stared back, then pointed to a bed. “Sit. I can tell you are footsore from your journey.” He obeyed, yet still stared at her angrily. She walked over to a tapestry hanging on the rock face opposite the door. Whispering something inaudible to Braeden, she pressed her hands onto the fabric, and then swung it wide open. The rock face had turned into a window looking into the forest. Immediately, Braeden set aside his amazement and started to plan escape. "If you're planning escape," she warned, looking out of the window. "the rock will turn to stone the second any creature passes through it, so don’t even try. You will not be fed, nor let out of the stone if that happens to you." The young woman walked over and sat onto the bed beside Braeden and faced him. "Well? What shall I tell you?" The last thing Braeden had eaten was the Sage's potion, which was not a comforting thought. He thought of Priscaz fleetingly, and promised himself that if he met up with the old woman on his return home, he would invite the woman to live with his family at the palace: the poverty she lived in was revolting. His stomach growled angrily. “OK. Let’s start with the basics. You aren’t to leave your room except at meal times. There is a privy off of your room over there, and to get food when there isn’t a meal being served, you just think of the kitchen in your mind and state ‘go’. Just do that when you need to go somewhere – concentrate, then ‘go’. Or, if you want food served to you because you’re a spoiled brat, you do this.” She clapped once. “Then when someone shows up, you tell them what you need.” A timid servant girl showed up with mousy brown hair and freckles. She appeared to be Neville’s younger sibling. Naiya asked for breakfast to be served in here, and then the girl left. She turned to him and smiled. She began to talk. As he pretended to listen, a part of Braeden’s subconcious remembered some of his own buried memories. Many years ago, at one of the last few balls his father would attend before falling sick, that after dancing all night long, he took a rest at his fathers’ side. Sipping a fruity beverage as his father drank an expensive wine, he listened when an exhausted, winded, and disheveled herald ran inside and knelt at the kings’ feet. “SIRE!” he breathed. He had been running for a very long time. The stench was unbearable. “I come with very grave news from Silmar.” He paused as the king stared down at him in interest. Braeden felt irritable towards this man. He just charged into this royal ball with such a stench – the nerve! “There has been a k-kidnapping of t-two daughters of t-the families Reddenhurst and Berkeley. A servant girl said that they had seen a shadow and ran to it. The shadow had seemingly grabbed them, and it flew aw-w-w-away.” The man cought his breath for a minute, then continued. James drew himself up in stature, looking very kingly, and Braeden’s heart swelled with pride. The boy, though simply ten-and-three years of age, wished for his father to say something dashingly obstinate yet cleverly dashing and cut off the herald’s head. He smirked with satisfaction of his own daydream. “And why is this news, messenger, any matter of importance to me?” the king stated, lifting the mans’ bowed head with his sword in its jeweled scabbard. “I do not dwell in the business of nobles from another Kingdom.” “My Queen, who was very fond of the girls, is issuing a reward for their return. To any man who brings them home in full health and with happy hearts, she will hand over her throne to them.” The guests gasped and immediately began whispering amongst themselves. The Queen of Silmar had no heir to the throne - that must be why. What a shame! I heard that the Abraella and Berkeley children were all so fair of heart and soul! Pity it wasn’t my son – he’s more than a handful and only eight! The whole of Silmar? Just for the finding of two young girls? How foolish of Dreama. They were probably just playing some hiding game and got lost somewh- “Silence, my esteemed guests,” the King smiled. “Messenger. Of this news, whom have you uttered this to?” “None but you, sire. I am to speak only to the rulers of all the kingdoms, and they are to spread the news to their lands. The Queen told me personally that ‘if the kings do not tell their people this, then the kings are too greedy to rightfully be a king.’ ” “Haha! That sounds like Queen Dreama’s words.” The king turned to sit down on his throne, yet turned back around. “The girls – what were their names? What were the names of all the children?” “Ronald, and Tatiana Berkeley are the parents of Naiya, and triplets Tania, Vance, and Benedict. And of the Reddenhurst household, Alan and his wife Faye are mother and father to Sienna, Alair, and Pyralis. The children we seek are but ten years of age – Naiya Rhiannon Berkeley and Pyralis Abraella Reddenhurst." The King looked solemn, yet after a minute, he laughed and said cheerily, "Messenger, you will rest here for a while. We won't let such horrid news bring this ball into misery. Come, and drink with us! We shall sort this out in the morning.” The messenger, though Braeden truly disliked him, seemed relieved, and he drank much ale and danced with many girls. (Braeden was shocked that they could ignore his horrid stench and go near his filthy ragged clothes, near-completely blackened skin from dirt and his yellow toothed breath. The King was a sneaky man. He truly was greedy, and unworthy of the throne. He wanted another kingdom. He wanted more gold, more power, more of everything. Though to impress his other guests, he was the only one to fetch this messenger a drink. He would give him the finest of the wine, yet a poison would be slipped inside it from a ring on his fingers. The poor man got sicker, and sicker, until later that night, when in his guest room, he collapsed on the floor and died. The King never let his son know. Braeden truly thought James was a god, and would never know of his father's treachery. As for Braeden, he never paid attention to the words of the herald, and was too focused on his horrid smell. This event buried itself deep in his memory, and was meaningless to him. It was by now nightfall, or so Braeden's rock window told him. He thought back on the days conversation. After a long breakfast talk, they continued thier conversation walking through the hallways. Braeden told Naiya of his life and his quest, and she told him about herself. "I dont know much about myself, really. I really only lived since I was ten years old. All I know is that we grew up with Nen as our mentor, guardian, father, and only other friend. Pyralis and I have no memory of who we were, our families, or anything. I used to be an elf," she had said. "but now I am a nymphatic elf." At a bewildered look from Braeden, she laughed and began to explain. The two talked long into the night, and Braeden learned much about the world he had never known before and they also discussed things he did know.