"Prince Autrivous" by M. Mockeridge

There was once a kingdom so vile, so vicious, it was said that even the Messengers, immortal though they were, were afraid to set foot within its borders. A man of unparallel evil ruled this vile kingdom. King Dalkmachiren concerned himself only with power. He cared not for his people and did with them as he pleased.

But in this horrid land was born a boy to the slave Muorha, who claimed him to be the son of the king. This baby boy was unlike anything the king had ever seen before. Hair like the stars of the sky and eyes like the dark abyss. Skin so white that the moon paled in comparison.

He was so unlike his father that the king refused to believe that the boy was his son. And so the child was brought before the Arc Acrin, the most holy of priests, and, much to the dismay of the king, the Arc Acrin declared the boy his son and rightful heir to the throne. He was named Autrivous.

The word of the Arc Acrin was never to be challenged or disobeyed, but the king hated this beautiful child from first mentioning of him.

“The priest is a fool!” claimed King Dalkmachiren. “This creature may be my heir, as he says, but he will never touch my crown. Soon, I shall father another son, and this one will cease to exist to me.”

A boy so fair was not hard to pass as a girl. A woman was easily forgotten, as her place was behind her husband and seated in silence. And so, the prince, hair veiled, in pleasant robes and jewels, eventually disappeared in the shadows of the kingdom.

But time passed and the king grew old. Wives came and were be-headed and it was soon apparent that the king would not father another son.

“Why has God cursed me so?” cried the king. “Is this weakling truly to be my heir!”

But the prince was not weak. Over the years he had grown strong and brave and all the more beautiful. He had a strong will, a brilliant mind, and a deep commitment to the priests who saved him as a newborn.

But the prince also hated his father and his wars. He was peaceful and kind. He preferred the vast collection of books of the ancient libraries to the many bloodstained swords of the armies. Every time his father went into battle, Prince Autrivous went to the temples to pray for defeat. Every time his father was victorious he prayed for the lives of his enemies. But after many battles he realized that his prayers were to no effect. He was angered that his words fell on deaf ears.

“Why does my father continue to win? He is a horrible man! He does not deserve such glory. I pray to God to stop but God does nothing. He does not listen!” cried Autrivous.

“Quiet, my son, for our lord’s ways are mysterious,” said the Arc Acrin in soothing words.

“Mysterious!? They are quite obvious to me. Lazy or evil is what our lord has to be to let this continue. And you! You dwell in your temples all day with your priests – your minions of apathy! You have done nothing to stop this! You, who is in a greater position than my father!”

“We do not interfere with the ways of politicians. Only when they come to us with their woes are we involved,” answered the priest.

“Then you are just as bad. This kingdom should be cursed, you are a mockery, and I am a fool. But no more! I shall not take part in this any longer!” finished the prince.

The prince fled the palaces and the temples. He took food and drink from the kitchens and a horse from the stables. He did not take the fanciest horse or the strongest, but the most reliable. He covered his hair and his face and sneaked away.

He found himself walking the streets of the commoners. Along the streets he passed a woman. She was young. She couldn’t be more than thirty, but she was withered with hardship.

“Please sir, would you be so kind? I have not eaten in two days. I have not had a proper meal in weeks!”

Autrivous collected all the food and water he had taken from the palace and handed it to the woman. “I’m sorry miss, but this is all I can give to you. I wish I could give you more.”

The woman clutched the food like a newborn baby. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

The prince walked on, dragging his horse behind him in the busy streets. He came across a young boy carrying sacks of grain.

“Young boy, why are you doing this? Why aren’t you playing games with your friends like children should?”

“I have to do this. Everyday I carry food from the farms to the markets to be sold. I work all day and get paid very little, but I have to help support my family.”

The prince handed the boy the reigns to his horse. “Take him. Feed and take care of him and in turn he will help you get your work done. He is a loyal horse, he will not disappoint you,”

Autrivous continued meandering through the streets. It began raining heavily and the villagers retreated to their homes. The prince, however, had no place to stay. He began to regret his decision to leave the palace when he saw that he was not alone. He spotted an old man dressed in rags and huddled against the side of a building.

“Old man,” questioned Autrivous, “why are you out here in the cold and rain when you could be inside warm and dry houses?”

“Ha!” coughed the old man. “This is all I have, boy. I have no other cloths, and I have no place to stay. I sit on the roads and beg for food, and when it rains, I freeze. I am too old to work and have no children to care for me.”

The prince gave the man everything he had.

“Take these,” he handed the man his boots and the all of the cloths off his back, “to keep yourself warm. And these,” he gave the man his jewels and coins, “rent yourself a room and buy yourself a meal. I do not need any of this, and it may last you until your dying days.”

The man took the gifts and looked up at Autrivous. “You are the prince?”

“Yes.”

“Ha! I, a poor beggar, am here with rich robes and fine jewels and a prince stands before me naked. I may die happy now, for I have seen everything!” exclaimed the man.

“Be happy, but do not die,” said the prince. “Live until you see me take the throne and end this mayhem and misery. Live to see me parade in the streets!”

The prince ran with out rest to the palace. He ran through the gates and the doors and into the great hall where the king and his court dined. He stood before them all and shouted:

“Look at me! I am your people. I am wet. I am cold. I am hungry, and I am naked. How can you let me live like this while you eat so finely?”

Prince Autrivous stayed in the palace for he was now determined to become king. When he ruled he would put an end to all of this.

Autrivous’s father prided himself on his skillful battle tactics. “How can you possibly he king?” he’d jeer. “A king must lead his troops in battle, but I’ve never even seen you lift a sword!”

To prove his father wrong, Autrivous pointed out a fatal flaw in his father’s flawless battle plan. But his victory was short lived. Because of this, his father corrected his mistakes and won his battle against the Blue Eyes, something he had never before accomplished.

The Blue Eyes were called such because of their one undefeatable trait: brilliantly blue eyes. Their eyes were said to contain the secrets of the universe if you looked deeply enough. Autrivous admired these people, for they were a strong empire with strong values. They were dedicated scholars, and that was all the more reason Autrivous hated himself for being as foolish as he was. His father’s troops had captured several of their greatest scholars, the men and women who knew all the secrets of their people.

All but one, however, refused to reveal anything to the king, and all but one was put to death. The one who chose life was made slave to the kingdom. He wore a silver ringlet around his head to signify this and was addressed only as “slave”.

At first, Autrivous hated this man. He thought that the scholar had betrayed his own kingdom just to save his life. But the scholar was a clever man. He always weaved his way out of revealing any true secrets and even lied to the king! What courage he has! Autrivous then thought, To risk your life to save knowledge is to be admired. Autrivous quickly fell in love with the scholar. His name was Auloral.

When his father had heard of this, he was enraged. His hatred for his son was enough, but it would be a powerful blow to his honor if the word got around that the prince was in love with their enemy. He ordered that Auloral be taken to the highest tower and executed.

When the prince heard of this he left immediately, fearing that he may already be to late. But before he left the Arc Acrin summoned him.

“How can you keep me when my love is to die? Have you no mercy!” shouted Autrivous, absolutely enraged.

“Claim yourself, I do not mean to hinder you, I mean to help. I believe that it is finally time that I give you this.” The Arc Acrin produced from his robes a magnificent sword. “Before you were born a Messenger, the closest Messenger to God, visited me. She told me of you and what you were to do. You, Autrivous, are to do what you have always meant to. Take the crown and save your people. End the horrible reign of King Dalkmachiren and his predecessors. God listens, and God has sent you to save us. God himself forged this sword. It is indestructible, and no one can win against you while you wield it. Now go! The execution is to take place at the highest tower of the kingdom at sundown. Take your sword and hurry before you are too late.”

Autrivous left with out hesitation, for his time was indeed limited. This time he took the fastest horse in the kingdom. He rode with no other thought but to save Auloral, but as he neared the tower the sun was sinking below the horizon.

He had no time for sympathy. The guards and soldiers who tried to stop him were slain with one stroke of his sword. He climbed the stairs, but the light grew dim, and by the time he reached the top it was dark. Auloral’s blood met his feet as he looked upon his slain love. Above Auloral’s body stood King Dalkmachiren, who made himself responsible for the deed.

“His eyes have been cut from his head,” said his father, “so that he may not find his way to his final resting place. His tongue has been cut from his mouth, so that he may not call for help.”

“You are evil,” replied Autrivous. “And therefore it has been my destiny to destroy you.”

Auloral unsheathed the Sword of God. King Dalkmachiren stumbled in amazement. He retreated to the very edge of the tower where he could run no longer. There, Autrivous thrust the sword through his father’s heart.

“Your reign had ended. You will no longer terrorize this world.” And his father fell from the tower to his death.

Autrivous dropped his sword and fell over the body of Auloral. He took the silver ringlet from his head and placed it on his own. “You are no longer a slave, my love, but I am slave to you. It will be my final duty to accompany my master to his afterlife. I will never abandon you.”

Autrivous returned to his kingdom as king. He told his people all that had happened. As they gathered below him on the steps of the palace he walked into the crowd and found a young boy. He placed one hand on the boy’s shoulder and said to him, “You are to be my heir. Your children will flow with my blood, the blood of a divine ruler, and yours, the blood of the people. Never forget either. Always remember what is right, and rule justly.”

And when his duties as king were done, he left, leaving his young heir to rule. He eventually disappeared into nothing, but his spirit still roams the earth until the day he finds his love, Auloral, and together they enter into the graces of God.