November 28

Hundreds of years before the kingdom of Adwin was established, there was a mighty ruler named Marcus whose power and prestige created an unmatchable empire. It was the beginning of an age when power and ability was measured by the sword and size of ones army. He was a beautiful man reaching well over six feet in height, a most imposing force against any local foe and always wore his long maple colored hair pulled tightly back. The root of all his power lay within the kindness of his heart, or so it was said, although he was also fortunate to have fathered many children each with the skills of their predecessor. There was no match tactically against the kingdom, which had been built in the middle of a deep lake with towers that could spy hundreds of miles in each direction. As his children grew, he taught them of courage and adventure, taking his sons on hunting trips and to town meetings. His most favored children were given titles and proclaimed to be rulers of their own lands stretching as far as the distant mountain ranges to the east and the ocean to the west.
The kingdom hired many storytellers to travel with each of the King’s sons to give detailed accounts of the foreign lands they conquered; all their accounts were stored in a most impressive library with claimed an entire wing of the kingdom. These heroic tales may or may not have been true but it pleased Marcus greatly to see the expansion of his kingdom and the apparent unrivaled success of his sons. It was a time when magic was expected and treasured, rather than feared. And so alongside learned advisors, and storytellers stood Eli, a magician of sorts. He would sit crookedly by Marcus’ side as townspeople came to dispute local matters that required a judge; never speaking out loud, he was a mysterious man and highly treasured. Without a word Eli would advise and oversee the kings welfare. He would engage in long mystic rituals to protect Marcus before battle or before choosing a new wife. And for the better part of both lives the men, opposite in appearance, stature and character, moved as one unit working for the good of the kingdom.
But of course, Kings may not live forever, despite the promises of local withes and fortunetellers and the ever-imposing Marcus fell desperately ill after returning from a quest to the North. His children and wives came to court to prematurely morn the passing of their mighty monarch. Eli set to work deep in the bowels of the kingdom pulling old manuscripts from the library, trying any and all paths to healing the king. What was first a genuine sadness and fear of their king’s death on the part of the siblings, became a cruel and selfish game as fear for their own safety began to consume the family. They planned how each was to secure their titles after his death while sitting by his bedside and it drove Marcus into a fitful state. The fragility of the giant made his sons fearful of their own mortality and each began to explore their own route to the glorious eternal ever after. Storytellers were all but replaced by magicians and prophets from the son’s conquered lands; each working to create some sort of potion or incantation that would keep them from suffering the fate of their father and the inevitable destruction of their empire. It was to no avail, no remedy for immortality could be discovered, or if it did exist, those who guarded its secret were tied too strongly to ever divulge their truth.
Slowly, their fears and insecurities were given such justification in their own minds that it lead to mistrust of one another and the first of many wars began. The eldest son, Petrov, met with his men just outside the city walls after meeting with his prized diviner.
“Men!” He cried, his voice strong and melodic, “Brothers, I call you this because you have proven to be closer to me than any of my own brothers; our task is not as simple as what we have conquered in the past. But we have received a prophecy that foretells our mighty victory. I am fearless with you by my side!” His inspiration empowered his men, they prepared for battle.
Heavy incense was lit in the tent of Petrov; he used this scent because it could not be ignored. With even the slightest breeze the scent was carried from tent to tent throughout his encampment and the men breathed it in deeply. If they were to close their eyes, perhaps they were reminded of home, which brought comfort and a reason to fight; or, in some others perhaps it smelt of the battlefield itself and brought a surge of adrenaline and surge of constructive anger that had kept them alive thus far. The scent continued further than the lowliest soldiers tent and began infecting the morale of Jameson, the second brother.
Rivals from birth being born only minutes apart the sons had separated as soon as they were able to walk. Jameson had settled to the south of his father’s kingdom where he discovered that life could in fact be more difficult than simply trying to survive his brother. The dessert conditions he subjected himself to had made him a more imposing force and in his desperation, he befriended many of the indigenous population where he treasured their arts of deception and storing of poisonous venom. His troops were trained accordingly, dressed in colors that would make it difficult for an outsider to distinguish a difference between that of Petrov or Jameson’s army, which was the main idea. Yet, that smell, it held a stronger memory than simply a lost battle and perhaps it is why such a pungent odor was chosen, because it seemed that no matter how far Jameson went Petrov instinctively knew of his brother’s life.
Jameson had first encountered the scent in a cave; it had been his place of refuge during a sand storm, which had quite overtaken his small party of travelers. They set up camp inside and waited for the storm to pass. There was no difference between the day and the night, nor the sky or the ground and the storm seemed to grow stronger with each passing minute. Eventually, he grew restless and decided to venture further in to the cave dreading the boredom that had taken over what was supposed to have been an exciting outing. Emerson warned him to go no further, he and his family had lived in the dessert for generations and in most circumstances Jameson lived by this man’s advice, but not now when the spirit of adventure was taking over.
Here, it was told later, that he met the goddess of revenge. He had traveled alone and reappeared hours later shaken and smelling of a strong spicy scent that no one could quite make out. Many had tried to extract a tale from Jameson about his fateful meeting, Marcus would have enjoyed such a tale but he could not be persuaded. The goddess of revenge you see comes to one without warning. She corners you: in a storm, in your dreams, before you are sentenced to death and speaks a simple phrase, “receive justice”. It is said to be unavoidable and altogether terrorizing, but no one knew why she would come to Jameson, no one could understand it at all. Upon his approach to Marcus’ kingdom, Eli whose state of being resembled that of his master and friend the king approached him. He looked ragged and forlorn having spent sleepless weeks working and reading to no avail. Eli pleaded; it was the first words Jameson had ever heard him speak.
“Justice” he squeaked. It was not the voice of a powerful man, it sounded like a small child breathy and nervous. He looked straight into Jameson’s eyes, grabbing hold of him and repeated his word. Although Eli had been thus far unsuccessful at securing a remedy for Marcus, he had stumbled upon a vision of Jameson meeting with a supreme being and believed that he could be instrumental in providing answers. Jameson whose intensity reminded him of his dessert encounter rebuffed Eli quickly.

Jameson inhaled the scent again breathing it in nervously wishing to conquer his fear over such a non-descript feeling. He would need to speak with his troops and encourage them as he was sure his other brothers had done or were doing, but first he went to the bedside of is father, ensuring him that this was for the best. There was no response; Marcus had lost his will to speak to his sons. His physical appearance was altered too severely, he more closely resembled a dull, fading statue than a sovereign ruler; his wives had sheared his hair, which had withered and grayed. Sitting faithfully beside his bedside was Eve, Marcus’ youngest daughter. She had been the first child born to him that seemed to truly emulate her father’s desires for the kingdom despite her disadvantage of age. It was natural for her to look to her father for guidance in understanding how to view her brother’s feud but Marcus refused her inquiries.
Eve would carefully descend to Eli’s room crying softly as she watched him fly about the room opening books and pulling different ingredients together. If she had been older, had been taught more efficiently, had her father not been ill from her early years, Eve believed she could have been more useful in finding a cure. She cursed the land to the north and prayed that there would be only bitterness and deceit spread amongst its inhabitants. Marcus conquest to the north had been to secure her a livelihood with her oldest brother Petrov. But, this would never come to be and Eve would never learn of his plan.
She heard as each of her brothers arrived with their troops. They had left suddenly and returned forcefully setting up camps outside the kingdoms walls creating a deep and loud continuous noise from their movements preparing armor or meals and cries for battle. She could not sleep while they waited outside and so instead, she roamed the halls peeking in on her father before heading down to Eli. He was mumbling something under his breath studying a book she had not seen him with before. She approached cautiously unsure if she would be intruding on anything but he noticed her when she reached the last stone step. His eyes were red and tired but for the first time in what seemed a lifetime, he looked hopefully. Eve exhaled deeply realizing that she had been holding her breath.
“What is it? What have you found!” the words flew from her lips leading her towards his side.

The sun rose slowly, almost cautiously over the kingdom burning from the early hours. For those who had managed to sleep that night, they were abruptly awoken by the brilliant light and fell into line following orders of their commanders. This is how it began, with the roaring of trumpets and what was a calm countryside became the battlegrounds of a broken family. Brother against brother, each prince using the strength of his own land- the natural elements, the harnessing of exotic beasts and the manpower of enslavement; they had prepared for this war and were ready. Each battle brought a new victor and the end was almost certain destruction. They were blinded so fully by their fear that any love that once existed for each other, for the king and his kingdom completely disappeared, which was more than Marcus’ feeble state could take. Eli had discovered something that would save the king but it was too late. Marcus passed away violently under the care of his newest wife who had Eve by her side.
No proper ceremony could be admonished and there was no messenger who was even able to reach the brother’s encampments to issue the news. Eve placed a solitary flower on the body of her father and then left the kingdom. She wandered aimlessly into the woods grief stricken; her body surged with rage that she had never allowed herself to acknowledge until the day of her death. Eli grieved for eleven days and then set to work in his room. He moved slowly as though he had heavy weights attached to his back. Gathering all of his work in his feeble hands, he sluggishly walked back to the room where Marcus lay. A low deep growl formed at the back of his throat, he mouthed the words of an incantation; it was sing song sounding, just four words and three notes repeated.

The body of King Marcus could scarcely be held underground for the amount of motion that pounded on top the earth daily as each army slowly advanced and retreated. It was the youngest of all the siblings, a young child of twelve, Eve, who was responsible for the swift end of her brothers’ mortal woes. She reemerged from the woods looking quite wild and went fearlessly to the frontlines standing amidst the horrors of war. Eve was determined to make a sacrifice of her life in exchange for the lives of her brothers. The moment her words were uttered to the dark sky the fighting ceased for the earth let out a great cry of despair. It shook and contorted ripping open the lush green landscape and the rest of the kingdom replacing it with large boulders and ash. The earth fought against the child’s plea unable to destroy such beauty for the sake of ambition and greed. It begged that she reconsider and that she find another to provide a sacrifice and promised that she instead would enjoy an immortal existance.
Her mother, Lynn, stricken with grief over the loss of her husband and foreseeing the loss of her only daughter swiftly threw herself into the mouth of the earth before her daughter could. The ground was satisfied with exchange and went still; everyone waited unsure what would happen next. The earth was the greatest judge of all and the brothers stood dumbfounded beside their armies. Eli, having seen from the tower that Eve was about to sacrifice herself ran to her like a young man. He was equally determined in wanting to stop Eve in her selfless act but upon reaching the outer gate he watched in horror as she threw herself into the earth’s opening. Eli was filled with a powerful rage and cried out to the earth and sky, he howled loudly ripping his clothes and fell to his knees.
“Cursed be the day you were born!” He thrust a fist towards the eldest son. “All of you,” he continued although it was almost inaudible because of the intermittent sobs that were shaking his frame. He looked towards Jameson next who had all the while been waiting anxiously at Eli waiting for instructions. Jameson had been given a simple direction, “when the time is right, use this”. Eli had given him a small silver dagger, which Jameson had believed, would be used on his older brother but now that the time came he was no where near the proximity to pull off such a maneuver. He thought quickly as to his alternatives but not one seemed too sensible to a man who had patiently waited for justice and desired bloodshed.
Yet that was exactly what Eli required, and so Jameson raised his arms high above his head so that all could see. With a quick slice the blood began to run atop his head in abundance. The winds picked up automatically as though Eli had commanded it to be so and it carried the royal sacrifice to where the magician stood.
“You shall have the kingdom you so desired and may you never leave its walls.”
Jameson fell weakly to the ground as his blood slowly drained from his body. His men were in such a state of shock that no one came to attend him immediately, instead, they stood as all the troops seemed to confused by the words of the old man. It was Eve who rushed to his side having come out of a daze watching her mother suffer the fate she had expected for herself. She held tight to her brother’s arm refusing to allow the blood to leave him. She looked up pleadingly, her own tears blurring her sight and began to whisper a prayer.
The winds became more forceful and all present began to see the destruction, which had begun at the outskirts of the battlegrounds. The winds had caught hold of the fire and challenged it forward, dancing their way across the landscape that had only been altered moments before it sought the lives of all that crossed it. Each brother, there were thirteen in all, made their way towards the gates of the kingdom. They thought nothing for their men or for Eli who was quickly trampled. Eve sat holding her brother in her arms begging him to wake and move as the fire moved closer and closer to them.
“Please Jameson… please find the strength”, it was all too much for a child of twelve years but yet the alternative of death seemed not an option, fate simply would not allow it. And so, she lived. In the end, they all lived. Eli had in fact found a way to prolong life and sent a curse of the sons of Marcus making sure that they would never leave the kingdom they had so badly and selfishly coveted.
The lands of the kingdom had been destroyed by the fire but with Eli’s last breath the winds ceased and eventually there was an unsettling calm. Petrov was the first to try and leave the walls of the kingdom wanting to return to the grounds he had conquered and be rid of the situation he had been responsible for. No one had seen anything quite like it; Petrov appeared to be held back by an invisible man. He tried again with the same results; he tried to be more forceful throwing his entire body weight against an empty hall but could not break through. Several brothers watched this is horror and amusement unsure what to believe. Each in their turn went against the doorway but none could leave. In their frustration they tried to attack one another but no harm seemed to come to any of them. It was years later that they began to notice how little change had taken form amongst them, no aging, no injury; it was quite unexplainable.
The kingdom again returned to a state of panic completely forgetting the curse the Eli had spoken, or perhaps simply unwilling to come to terms with it. Jameson had finished his recovery by the time each of his brothers had thrown themselves against the doorway. He walked up to it skeptically with his mended arms forward reaching out to the invisible force but felt nothing. He stepped hesitantly forward expecting to impact against the invisible force that had stopped each of his siblings but there was nothing. Jameson smiled to himself, justice.