The Power of a Few

The Monster ~ 8

   Beggars lined the streets, mud and filth coloring their rags. Young mothers with crowns of grey scored the bleak marketplace, scurrying to fill their baskets with meager portions of thin milk, stale loaves, and rancid fish. They argued with the street vendors, making clear, concise debates, but still getting swindled out of their money, returning home with half-empty baskets, empty purses, and hungry children. Dull bells chimed throughout the empty streets, signaling the return of exhausted fathers and sons from the silver mines. Young ones played in the muddy streets, adding new stains to the array of brown on their simple clothes.

   Zalon strode through the sprawling maze of quiet homes and vacant buildings on his way to Kever K'Shaw. Teleporting past the dreary city would have been a breeze, but he walked through the streets to remind himself of his people. Drained of spirit, Yi'il was an empty shell. While lodging living people, the city was dead. Men drudged along with their heads bowed, their spirits broken. Women hurried home, staying close to the sides of roads. Children lazed around the corners, the joy of childhood stolen from their hearts. 

   It was depressing to see them, but Zalon forced himself to carry on. As he walked through Yi'il, he locked eyes with a few, as if to relay courage telepathically. If only it was that easy.
   Although the Kreoul had demanded his presence immediately, Zalon took his time in the city. He strolled past the short buildings that lined the outer layer of the city where the beggars, gangs, and mineworkers lived. As he moved inward, it became more lively. The closer you got to the castle, the higher your status was. Noblewomen sat in their carriages, waiting as their servants bought food. Zalon saw a group of young warlocks following their teacher as he explained and showed examples of the ancient magic. Armed mages marched through the marketplace, kicking out beggars and making displays of thieves. A few mages stood outside grand houses as guards for high nobles. Zalon spotted an Elder in his quitel-drawn carriage. The cattle-like beasts made low rumbling sounds as they marched along, guided by switching whips. As he continued walking inward, the crowds thinned out. Soon, he stood before the colossal that was his home. Kever K'Shaw loomed over him as if threatening to tip forward and crush the city before it. The castle stood out of a mountain, hewn from the rock by dark magic. Two grandiloquent towers spiraled up on both sides, guarding the gate that yawned out before Zalon. 

   He stopped, and breathed. Trying to collect himself before facing the Kreoul. He lifted his head, steely determination in his eyes, and walked in.
Thirty minutes had passed before he finally arrived at the throne room. Massive doors sat in front of him with strange symbols and patterns carved into their smooth stone. One crazy protection spell. The only way through these doors was by chanting the spell's counterpart, or if someone opened the doors on the other side. Not even his telekinesis could open them.
Before Zalon could pull the bell's rope, the doors opened, scraping against the cold floor and leading to the throne room outdoors. Ahead of him, across the vast courtyard, was another door, identical to the one open before him. A long row of chairs seated the Elders along the wall, their assistant mages standing beside them. They looked at Zalon with harsh glares. He ignored them and walked in. To his right was the city, stretching out for a mile or two. Cold winds rustled through his garments and he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He turned left and saw his step-father. Dressed in simple black clothing, the man looked almost militaristic. He sat on his throne, his head turned toward Mel who stood on his left. She had changed out of her armor and now wore a long purple dress with sleeves that drooped over her hands. She whispered into the Kreoul's ear, malice burning in her eyes. She was probably telling him about the fight she and Zalon had. Finishing her story, she stood up straight and glanced at Zalon, a smirk on her face. Zalon kept his eyes on Xennas. To the Kreoul's right stood Zalon's mother. She had her hair up in a tight bun, exposing those keen eyes of hers. They stared directly into Zalon's, gleaning information from the deep corners of his soul. The Kreona wore a deep maroon cloak over her red dress. She placed her hand on the Kreoul's shoulder. He looked at her and she nodded her head in Zalon's direction.