Of A New AgeA Story by Maiden Of The Moon An ancient kingdom. A turn of tides. A new power rises. The sky overlooking the old Machu River shed ominous, ashen clouds. At its bend where whitewater raged along shrill winds, the riparian Machu Fort endured nature`s thrusts in silent submission to fates. The castle itself was archaic, its history stretched as far as the beginning of Machu River, when it was itself only rills of rainwater. The Machusetts grew with the river, from rills to rivulets, from breed to sect, from gullies to wild rapids, from hamlet to the mighty kingdom, for centuries of old Machu trusted to its fates, flowed in content with the turns of time. Yet Machu, when prospered, bred not only richness but also hierarchy and power, a tumour on the rise. There ruled Sovereigns that came and went, each upholding laws severe or kind, with the rest of the Machusetts trotting obediently along after them. Under such influence of power it was essential to be one of the flock, to believe in the might of the leader, to not fall behind the crowd of followers, and for a thousand years the system remained, so be it. But times are changing, fire to ice, chaos to the quiet. Rarely in the life of Marcus the XII had he encounter such huge storm clouding over the whole of Machu. The storms began as unsuspecting rumbles in the skies, a presage of livid fire, and just when every Machusett least expected, they broke into tempestuous terror, pursuing the Fort with disquiet. The tumour bred rebellion, and rebellion caused bloodshed. Someone`s vision expanded far and wide, no longer limited by the vertical hierarchy. He, the unnamed one, finally in the quiet of his mind realised the voice of the individual within, and so ready to accept it, to become it. Years were spent to recruit young, brave hearts who embraced the same ideology, added to the people`s shock was their princess`s runaway. When the faithful time came, under his lead, their pavilions were built at the other point of Machu River. Marlya was his name, and in the wildest of times his words reached Marcus the XII by the hands of a loyal messenger. “Long live the Machusetts. I shall not endure to present challenge to your stronghold, in regard of the late hazard. How of depth Mordose`s insight would bring I do hope it should shed you some light, but knowing me, dear brother, my arms are long and ears sharp. You do not mourn for news behind closed bars that escaped into my boundaries. I brooded on ending the chaos once and for all, the hardened perplexity, if only for my own karma. The fear was ever too strong amongst the commons, small minds twisting tales strange, big mouths spreading strange tales, a lot so to bar my anxious faiths for dearest Mulani`s nerves, oh so dreadful the lady had become, the wife I so mercilessly won to my class leaving her maiden house dripping with tears, and her loving sibling`s heart drenched and oozed out more. Beast as I, my brother, kindness do have a way of creeping into such man`s sanctuary, however gory the depths may seem. Put down your spears and we pronounce peace. Accept my offer in goodwill, or repel it under fiery impulse to lash your bitter loathing upon. But oh mercy! Have some heart! Know that the bolts of victory are either mine or yours only, and on whoever`s brow it sat upon bloodshed was sure and demanded.” In the throne room light was scarce, air thick, and cries of crows far away could be distinctly heard over the silent pressure. The usual assembly of servants and guards were dismissed in a hustle, after the return of the messenger. Marcus`s accelerating tension could be heard from his breaths, bowing before him of course was his most trusted Mordose. The parchment was received with sceptical anticipation, words devoured greedily by pained eyes, and gripped with clenched fists after it had served its purpose. “This mocking outcast. He would not, he could not be offering peace. Such is not his doing.” “No, but the Lady begged for it.” “What have they done to her? What have he done to her?” “She seemed to be in good spirits, my Lord. The Marlyans seemed to have crowned her Queen and she did not look least of all a captive. She ruled with Marl-” “Rule with Marlya? A woman not within the confines of norm! How he seduced my poor sister, to the extend that she found blind truths in his false words, betrayed her own set and joined rebellion! For poor Mulani`s sufferings and all the cruel Beast`s wicked deeds, do I still endure to keep swords hilted and anger submerged? Or do we rise up to battle �" into the darkest fields we fight for the good times before that would put true peace to my throne!” “Oh wise King Marcus! Of course we heed your decision.” “Now, now, Mordose. I demand news. Marlya had been toying with words, deriding himself. The Beast had the mind of the Serpent, and Mulani was only one of the tempted.” “The Marlyans talked of the end of the Machu Dynasty, King Marcus. They said they have opened their eyes and had seen it all. They talked of their own will, and what they could decide for their own lives and they chose to support Marlya of all people, for he brought truth, they said.” “End of Machu? Death to all! More, Mordose! What of their weapons?” “I did not see weapons, my Lord. Yes, yes, I bribed. But all I was shown to were not weapons, at least not how weapons should look, but trinkets of round, clay-like spheres. What they are used for, I asked. He claimed they talked, they lured, and when Marlya finally decided to use them they could glow red and slit flesh. I have one with me, King Marcus.” “Bring it forth!” King Marcus XII held the “weapon” on his hand, which was outstretched in fear for untoward tricks. He then straightened his poise, and scrutinised the globe, his still eyes capturing every detail. Opposite to him Mordose gazed with caution. The turquoise globe was at first cool to touch, but seemed to advance in heat with every increased second Marcus`s palm was holding it. It was neither transparent nor opaque �" it was undefinable. He looked once, he could stare straight across to Mordose`s watching face, he looked again downward, he could see nothing but the bluish green, he blinked twice and looked again, he saw a blur. Marcus exhaled loudly, agitated. He crouched low on his throne, head down, placed his elbows on either side of his thighs and brought the ball closer to his penetrating gaze. And that was when it glowed, red and cut flesh, only then it wasn`t the globe that did, it was the sword. Mordose`s sword, no, Marlya`s, as he peeled off of disguise and grinned down triumphantly on the dethroned.. That was the end of Marcus the XII, last King of Machu, and in his gaping eyes were seen the blue of the globe spilled out all over, spiraling after the bright red. The Age of Machu had since ended, the Age of Marlya had thence begun. On the bank of Machu River, Marlyans welcomed the New, some with open arms, some clutching in their breast still the dreams of yesterday. Sparks flashed and gleamed on the mouth of the Marlyans, one flashed contempt, another gleamed hope, but was it not the same story with every transition after a colossal shift of dynasties, where we choose whether to fasten ourselves with the flock of Mordose, or like Mulani, search to break barriers and be united with our True Selves. © 2016 Maiden Of The MoonAuthor's Note
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Maiden Of The MoonAboutWe dont read if we are not fueled by the intrigue of the characters, their interaction and the chemistry there born from within. Same as the way I write, the thrill comes down the lines when I slowly .. more..Writing
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