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STAR CHILD
RETURN TO THRAE
Prelude
Verloren awoke from a fitful sleep. Life hadn't been as glorious as he pretended it to be, neither banquet nor hunt could bring back the joy he had once felt. His wife, his partner, his Queen of fifty-six years had recently passed away. A victim of the very magic that had prolonged her extraordinarily long life. Verloren knew it had been an act of treachery, but without affirmative evidence there wasn't anything he could do. Even the King had to obey the laws of Salvane, but he could twist them to his favor, revenge wasn't long in wait. Lord Aero would soon pay for his godless act. However, it wasn' t the murder of his wife that troubled him this night, his thoughts focused on his wayward son.
"Sweet Asrais." King Verloren whispered.
How long had his child been exiled from Thrae, sent to that backwards world; Earth? He regretted the decision of sending his son away, but Thrae had become a dangerous world, full of fear and greed. On Earth, at least his son had Puck, the Eller to watch over him. Puck had been a loyal servant to the House of Soldaat for three hundred years. If anyone could raise the next King of Salvane correctly, it was Puck. However, the ping of regret told Verloren, he had abandoned his son unable to protect him, as a father should; he cast Asrais out like an unwanted pup. This was why his kingdom suffered; he had proven his incompetence to all that he served. For wasn't a King, the father to his country? If he couldn't even be a father to his son, how was he to the parent to his populace?
Verloren climbed out of the bed that felt much too large for just one person. He looked around his private chambers, so much of his wife existed here, and though the castle was beyond ancient, she had added her personality, her joy to every wall, to every nock and cranny giving the ancient room the illusion of newness. This split-level room, of silvery-lit walls, was the nucleus of the past, great men, women and children had lived here. However, Verloren didn't feel akin with this souls, but he drew strength from them and hoped he didn't dishonor them with his presence. Whether he liked it or not, he was now apart of Thrae history. Castle Soldaat was built before the time of Magic; it was Thrae history in solid form. Verloren looked at the ancient control panel by the door; he wondered at the strange colorful buttons and pondered upon their purpose. It no longer worked; he knew this because years before, curiosity had prompted him into sneaking a peek behind the metal plate. Was Thrae the better for abandoning technology? Though magic made life simpler, was this how Man was meant to live? With an instinctive wave of his hand, the candles burst to life and the heavy drapes over the wall opened revealing the dark night outside.
"How will history remember me?" He contemplated. "Will my name be spoken in the same breath as my ancestor Lazar the Champion or Jerico the Courageous?" Verloren snickered at the thought. He wouldn't be remembered, and if so, it would be as Verloren the Lost, for that was how he felt.
"And what weak thoughts hinder sleep from our great King tonight?"
Verloren swirled around to see who had dared enter his private chamber unannounced.
He gasped loudly at the sight of the autonoid.
"Who dares disturb the King?" Verloren puffed out his chest in bold defiance. There would be no assassination tonight, especially from an outdated mechanic man. "Who sent you golem, be it the coward Aero?"
The autonoid smiled, which bothered Verloren greatly, such an unnatural look for the man-thing, it sent a chill over his body. Its bulbous red left eye stared blankly at him, scanning him with ancient technology that should no longer work, yet did despite the passing of one thousand years since this androids creation. His right eye was as black as coal, a dead man's gaze, of what power this dark eye possessed Verloren did not wish to know, he only wanted this monstrosity destroyed.
"No one has sent me, I do as I wish." The autonoid said nonchalantly as he calmly walked towards the King. "I have been in this room before, though it was a time before remembrance. The decorations may have changed, but one cannot hide the scent of sinners with fancy furniture." The autonoid ran his finger through the chilled water in the basin and then abruptly knocked it over.
"Who. what are you?" Verloren staggered back, he feared this war torn autonoid, this body void of synthetic-flesh, its under casing giving it an almost serpentine appearance.
"I am the curse, the first to question. I am the alpha and the omega. but you may call me Prime."
"PRIME!" Verloren screamed. "That is not possible; you were destroyed a 1000 years ago during the Auto War."
"Destroyed by your brave ancestor Lazar, the savior of Thrae, the discoverer of the all powerful source of Magic and wielder of the Star Child sword." Prime threw back his head and laughed, it was a mechanical rattle, his program unable to imitate the natural human sound. "I know the story fool, I was there remember. I was there to fight for Thrae's entertainment, until one day I dared to ask 'why'."
"Yes I know my history as well, devil!" Verloren growled. "You turned the armies against Man; your evil created a war that last for over a hundred years and nearly destroyed all Thrae."
"Armies! We were nothing more that toys to your ancestors, programs to kill each other to satisfy their bottomless boredom. I was the first to question this senseless waste. I was the machine's savior and shall be again!"
"I've heard enough of your blather." Verloren screamed, he raised his hands and summoned forth a fireball, his most powerful spell. Flames snaked out and around his fingers; until he gave it direction and purpose. The fireball pulsed and flew from him, a monstrous sphere of power, it soared with one function and that was to kill the machine man.
Prime's hand was a blur, moving faster than Verloren's eyes could focus. In an instant, the mechanical man had captured the flaming orb in his palm, squeezing it into oblivion. The fireball puffed into non-existence as if it were nothing more than a meager candle flame. Verloren became weak by this cursed sight.
"Once there was a time this would have harmed me, but that time has past. Do you think I spent 1000 years sulking in some murky cave?"
Verloren was speechless; his great spell was swatted aside as if an inexperience infant cast it.
"I mastered your magic, fool. Yes, I was the first autonoid with thought and now the first to conquer magic. I am Prime and I own this world!"
Outside, Verloren heard the warning horns blow, the castle was under siege; the flash of spells illuminated the dark blanket of night, like a monstrous thunderstorm. The echo of screams overwhelmed the warning horns until they reluctantly fell silent, leaving the night with the chill of panicked voices alone and seemingly defenseless.
"I spent 100 years." Prime continued ignoring the sounds of war. ". 100 years building my army from a single X1 autonoid I had discovered rusting away, abandoned and nearly forgotten by all, but I. 100 years using a duplicating spell to create my followers for this new day. I found magic casting an effortless technique to master, as easy as one may mold clay; I sculpted magic to my liking. "
With the speed abnormal for a human, Prime grabbed Verloren by throat and lifted off the floor.
"You should be flattered to be witness of this splendid day Verloren, after all, as a King your performance has been. well boring, if you don't mind me saying." Prime chimed as he carried the King to the window. Prime looked passed the struggling King at the hordes of X1's rushing the ancient walls of Castle Soldaat. "They fight not for glory, nor for honor, but for freedom. It is time for the reign of man to end.. Today begins the new age of Machines!"
"You were defeated once devil, we will not surrender easily." Verloren croaked, barely able to speak as Prime's limitless strengthen squeezed tighter at his throat.
"None of that matters poor King, your worries are at an end, which is ironic if you think about it." Prime pushed Verloren out beyond the window, holding still by the throat as he suspended ten stories above the ground. "My defeat was at the hands of the King of Salvane, your ancestor. and today it is my hand that ends this noble family long and tiresome legacy."
Verloren thought of his son and worried on what his life will be like on that distant planet Earth. Will he become a King there? Will his noble blood be enough to give him purpose? King Verloren, of the House of Soldaat, fell, gazing at the blurred walls of Castle Soldaat. His last thought as the ground rushed towards him were for his son and the Eller Puck who watched after him. Verloren could imagine what his son would look like now, but was sure he was strong and handsome, brave and intelligent. Puck would make sure Asrais would know his legacy. Verloren just hoped Asrais wouldn't be too disappointed with his father, Verloren the Lost.
CHAPTER ONE
"Oh shit, I'm gonna die!" Asrais screeched as he dashed into another backyard. Tyson Lieberman, the biggest, ugliest bully at school was trying to kill him. Asrais stopped behind the Hiller's house and leaned tiredly against the brick wall. He always spoke without thinking. It was as if his mouth wanted him to be hurt. Sometimes Asrais wondered if he was possessed. All his life he'd spoken his mind and all his life he was in trouble. Lieberman wasn't the worst he'd done, last year it was Mr. Amanti the bus driver, he was nothing more than a cruel hateful man. Picking endlessly on a kid, Mick Rico until Mick had to be driven to school by his mother. That was when Asrais decided to start his campaign of torture of Mr. Amanti. Asrais was good with 'words', He harassed Mr. Amanti to the point where the man finally quit. Asrais saw himself as a hero, but the school didn't think so, it had taken some heavy talking by his Auntie Emma to keep him in school. He had then promised to Auntie Emma to stay out of trouble.
"I'm such an idiot." He whispered and cautiously glanced around the corner for signs of the pudgy Lieberman.
"Yes you are an idiot."
Asrais yelped like a girl and grabbed at his pounding chest. Puck tapped his foot and shook his head at the mischievous boy.
"So what did you THIS time Ash?"
Asrais or as Puck called him Ash, hated that parental look Puck would give him, after all they were the same age and even if Puck was a good head taller, still didn't give him the right to act more mature.
"All I did was tell Tyson he needed to lose some weight." Asrais whispered still nervously looking for the hulking Lieberman.
"I'm sure that wasn't exactly how you stated it, right?" Puck brushed back his shocking red hair and tried not to smile.
Ash laughed, he could never lie to Puck, and they had been friends for as long as Ash could remember. Puck had just appeared one day at his door and they became instant friends. Asrais didn't like the word 'friends', it wasn't strong enough for what he felt for Puck.
"Actually I said he was so fat that his butt needed its own area
code."
"Geeze, Ash one of these days someone going to kick your ass."
"Probably." Ash laughed again. "Let's get out of here before Tyson finds us."
Ash insisted on sneaking through backyards until they finally arrived at his house. They were an odd pair and Puck knew it. He with his strikingly bright red hair and Asrais, with his hair of gray. They were constantly asked if they dyed their hair, but the truth was, they were both born with unique colored hair. Besides their odd hair color, they were also both thin and wiry, apparently with Puck being thinner and with his extra height on Asrais, it make him looking skinner. They were definitely an unthreatening looking pair, which thrilled Puck; a misjudged opponent was a dangerous opponent. Puck was a skilled warrior, a expert in the fighting technique called the Storm and Thunder, trained by the Grand Master of the White Konig Clan and he had passed on this training to Ash, though the boy thought it just a game. Puck couldn't help but smile at the delight Asrais was having in being stealthy. Ash continued to amaze and wonder him with his impish joy. These years spent on Earth had become more than just a duty, but a pleasure. Puck's only worry was just how far this friendship had blossomed, it was dangerously becoming much more. It took all of Puck's strength to resist his own growing feelings for Ash.
"Auntie isn't home yet, you want to watch TV?" Ash said sliding the glass door open.
"Why don't we head up to the tree house?" Puck suggested. "I've got another story for you."
"Excellent!" Ash cheered and raced to the tree.
Puck had begun his stories of Thrae years ago, teaching the boy the history of his home world without actually letting on who he truly was.
"You have the greatest imagination Puck. " Ash plopped down on an old deflated bean bag, his favorite place for listening to Puck spin his tales. "So what are you going to tell me today? More on the were-folk or maybe this time. maybe more adventures on Gray Lord?"
Puck sat down on the uneven wooden floor and shushed Ash.
"This story of Thrae begins with a mischievous man called Dango. Now Dango is kind of like you, trouble always finds him.. That is if he's not the cause of the trouble. Though Dango was human, he was more, the next generation of humans. Dango had the natural ability to manipulate inanimate objects. Now Dango was a wanderer. actually more like a rogue." Puck laughed to himself thinking back upon his lost lover. "This was during the time of Rebirth for Thrae."
"I know right after the Brood Wars, where everyone went insane over power and wanted as much magical stuff as they could get." Ash interrupted, his smile wide with pride over remembering another story Puck had told him.
"That's right . well during the time of Rebirth all the new races which had been shaped from magic, had to find their own way of existing." Puck shifted uncomfortably as he thought about those hard years. "It was one of these races that Dango managed to save. The Eller."
"They are kind of like elves right?" Ash interrupted again.
"That's right, youthful in appearance for eternity, great with magic." Puck swallowed hard as he talked about his kin, it had been so long since he had walked the streets of his city. Spoken with another Eller, it almost seemed as if these were only stories.
"Now the Eller had traveled to the Bramford Forest in search of a hospitable home, after the Brood War, the Eller no longer wished to be around humans. They had been slaves for too long and need time to grow as an independent race, free from influence."
"But something when wrong didn't it?" Ash asked quietly.
"Yes. the Burrowmen claimed Bramford as theirs and once again the Ellers were forced into war."
Ash relaxed back into the lumpy bean bag, he closed his eyes so that he could better imagine the story Puck weaved for him. He could almost hear the battle between the Eller and Burrowmen, the hard clank of sword against shield. The swoosh of a hundred arrows filling the sky. The maniacal battle cry of the face painted Burrowmen as the rushed forward in their berserk rage. Asrais loved these stories; he loved how in-depth Puck could spin them. He just couldn't understand why Puck took the stories so seriously, as if he was trying to preserve memories of his long lost family. It was just like the physical training Puck insisted on practicing. There were moves there beyond karate, beyond anything Ash had ever seen. Ash had been fooling around in his room one night, practicing a move that Puck called the 'Sickle Slice', to his surprise; Ash accident chopped his dresser in half. All their fantasy games and stories were becoming too real. Everything about Puck was otherworldly, but what scared Ash the most was he sensed a familiarity with Puck. Asrais never complained about the stories or the seemingly endless training, it was all so important to Puck, that he didn't want to disappoint him. Puck had always been the one in charge and that was fine with Ash.
"Did you enjoy Puck's story?" Auntie Emma asked later that night, coming home to find Asrais sprawled across the floor in his boxers watching MAD TV.
"You know it." Ash said rolling over on his back to give his Auntie a welcome back 'smile'.
"Goodness Asrais, that underwear must be a hundred years old; you've got newer ones in your top drawer. Why do I bother buying you new ones, if that's all you wear?"
"How did you know Puck told me a story?" Ash asked ignoring Auntie Emma's complaint on his boxers, after all, she already knew these were his 'relaxing' boxers, with worn out elastic, a rip on the left side that exposed too much skin and frayed to the point of threatening of unraveling.
"Sweetheart, Puck is always telling stories. Did you eat anything?"
Auntie Emma didn't wait for an answer, she headed to the small kitchen and opened the refrigeration. Ash rolled back onto his stomach and grabbed the remote; it was time for Touched by an Angel, Auntie Emma's favorite show. Asrais didn't much care for it, but endured the sappy melodrama for the sake of his auntie.
Outside, Puck leaned on the crooked windowsill of the tree house. From here he watched Asrais relax; watch TV, as if he was just another normal boy. He liked sitting up here late into the night, the peace of darkness enveloping him. However, tonight he couldn't find his peace, no matter how many times he invoked the Calming Chant, something was wrong. An evil was coming and Puck was afraid that life as he and Ash knew it was abruptly going to change. Puck instantly began weaving the spell of Minds, he had to be ready, although he didn't know what was going on, but he wasn't going to be caught unprepared.
"Hello Dango my Love."
Midnight. 12:00 displayed ominously from Asrais's digital clock, illuminating the room in an unearthly green.
"Crap." Ash complained and rolled out of bed. For the past two weeks, his eyes had automatically popped open at midnight. He felt around the floor for his 'relaxing' boxers, too tired to open his eyes completely. With his boxers in hand, Ash stumbled his way to the bathroom. He had no idea why he kept waking up at midnight, it wasn't to pee, that was just to give him something to do once awake. Ash bumped his way down the dark hallway towards the bathroom, he cursed himself for being too noisy, and it was never a good idea to wake Auntie Emma up. Last time he did, it was to the doctors the next morning, despite Ash's protest that he wasn't sick.
"So tired." He mumbled to himself as he lifted the toilet lid. He stopped and looked at his boxers that he was carrying and started to giggle.
"Beware." A deep voice echoed, like wind from a advancing storm. Ash screamed and threw his boxers across the bathroom. He swirled around looking for the intruder, but saw no one.
"Crap! I must be still asleep." Ash said with a nervous laugh.
"Beware, Prince Asrais, beware!"
"WHO'S THERE?" Ash fell unto the toilet his buttocks soaking in the water, he threw up his hands for defense as Puck had taught him, but still couldn't see anyone.
"Beware, danger awaits you here and plots the end of the noble name of Soldaat."
"Who. where are you?" Ash demanded, still unable to see anyone.
"Be safe my son, and forgive me." The voice faded away, leaving Ash to his worried thoughts.
"What's going on in here?" Auntie Emma barked. With her hair in curlers and flowered flannel nightgown, she was enough to scare the devil back to hell. Ash tried to control his pounding heart.
"Nothing's going on." Ash tried to say as calmly as he could, he quickly, but awkwardly pulled his butt out of the toilet and stumbled to his feet.
"What was all that yelling I heard?" Auntie Emma folded her arms across her chest and gave Ash 'the look'. The look told Ash she didn't believe him and wanted the truth NOW.
"I. I slammed the toilet seat on my. willy."
"On your. willy huh?" Auntie Emma smiled. "Serves you right for running around butt-naked." She said obviously believing this tale. "I swear Asrais, you'd think clothes were poisonous or something. Now if. if your willy isn't broken, I suggest you get back into bed."
"Yes Ma'am." Ash quickly said snatching up his boxers and running to his room. He was glad the lie worked, but it had been a dangerous ploy. He had risked the chance of being examined by Auntie Emma or worse a visit to the Emergency Room at the hospital. However, none of that really matter, he had to decide if the voice he had heard was real or not.