Eden-South (2 page)

“What comfort is that to me now?” Jameson
spat back. “Where the hell is my brother?”

“Perhaps you should sit down, my lord,
before going in to see the King,” he suggested. The stench of
alcohol was overwhelming, and he could see Jameson’s anger
increasing due to his obvious intoxication.

Brushing off his offered hand, Jameson began
to pace the hallway outside his father’s room. “I don’t need to sit
down, you old bat. I want to go in and see my father. Where the
hell is Callum?”

“We’re still looking for him,” he explained.
“We hope to expect him soon.”

“You hope to
expect
him?” The prince
stopped his pacing and turned in anger. “You either expect him, or
you hope someone will
find
him. Which is it?”

Alistair cleared his throat slightly. “We
hope—we pray—someone will find him shortly.”

“So you have no idea when, or if, he will be
here.” It was not said as a question, but rather a statement, or
more as an accusation. “I’m going in, then.”

Callum entered the silent chamber. His
brother sat holding their father’s hand; the King lay with his eyes
closed. His heart leaped as he entered, mistaking his father for
already having passed, but as he moved forward the small grey eyes
opened and immediately found him. Hot tears filled his eyes,
running down his cold cheeks. Quickly wiping them away, he walked
over to the opposite side of the bed and held his father’s other
hand. Looking over him, he met Jameson’s eyes. His brother was
visibly shaken with grief, as well as visibly drunk. He would have
expected nothing else from him. As light and carefree as Jameson
was, Callum was the complete opposite. Even his looks were the
opposite of angelic Jameson’s. He had shoulder-length dark hair and
deep brown eyes. A dark beard covered the lower half of his face,
making him appear older than his brother.

“My sons,” the King said in a quiet, raspy
voice.

“We’re both here now, Father,” Callum
immediately responded. “Be strong; we are with you.”

“My strength has long escaped me, my son.
I’m afraid my time amongst you has ended.”

“Don’t say that,” Jameson choked. “This is
just a spell—”

“It is not,” he interrupted. “You must
accept what life has dealt us.” Both boys remained silent as their
father struggled for more breath. “Before I leave you, I must
settle the subject of my successor.” Callum saw the High Priest and
Chancellor move closer, in order to hear his words better. It was
imperative that the words said next be written down correctly. Many
wars had been waged over the words of dying men. “Callum, my
youngest,”—he turned his head slowly toward him—“you have been my
right-hand man since the day you could speak. I cannot express to
you the magnitude of my love for you. It saddens me greatly to see
any morsel of disappointment in your eyes, but I must choose the
right path.”

Callum’s body stiffened at his father’s
words. Every man in the room seemed to look to one another in
shock. Was his father saying what they all understood? “Father, you
cannot mean …” he blurted out.

Turning his head, the King looked at his
brother. “Jameson, you are to take the crown when I am gone. I give
to you the land of Eden, and all the responsibility of being High
King that comes with it. You have never been responsible a day in
your life, and each day I have been faced with trials by you. I am
trusting you, here on my deathbed, to accept this great honour and
make me proud. Promise me you will be as great of a King as I know
you can be.”

“Father,” Jameson spoke quietly, “I can’t do
this.” His voice pleaded as he continued to hold their father’s
limp hand.

“You must. It is your birthright. You have
the allegiance of the King’s men, and the people of this city love
you. All you must do now is show them why they love you so. Prove
to them you’re not just the carefree prince they all know, but also
a great leader who will rule them fairly.”

“This is foolish!” Callum barked, standing
up beside his passing father. “Someone talk some sense into this
man! Obviously his sickness is affecting his reasoning.” He looked
around at the others with wild eyes. “Chancellor, surely you cannot
agree with this decision!”

The Chancellor looked on warily. “It is not
my decision to make, my lord,” he responded.

“Alistair?” He turned toward the High
Priest.

“Callum,” he replied, placing a hand on his
shoulder. “Your father only has what’s best for his people in mind.
We must all support him in this decision.” Callum knew the High
Priest did not agree with the High King, but he wouldn’t dare speak
it out loud. An act like that would be high treason in these lands.
Callum felt completely lost for the first time in his life. All who
stood there remained silent, watching as Callum slowly fell to
pieces.

“Callum—” his father began.

“Don’t!” He held up a hand. “I’ve heard
enough from you this evening, Father. If you want to put this
man-child in charge, then by all means do so. It will be the end of
all that we’ve known.” Callum turned around and stormed out of the
chamber, leaving the audience there assuredly shocked and
appalled.

“How dare he,” Jameson spat, getting up to
follow his brother. As he entered the outside hall, he could see
his brother’s form retreating down the spiral staircase. “Callum,
stop!”

His brother paused on the step, looking up
over his shoulder. “Already giving orders, brother?” he said
bitterly.

“Our father is on his deathbed, and you have
the audacity to walk away from him? Get back here now, and stay by
his side until the end.”

“Why should I? I’ve been by his side every
minute of every day, and look where it’s gotten me! I refuse to
stand by him any longer, when he has so clearly decided to
not
return the favour.” Callum continued to descend the
stairs into the great hall. Jameson wouldn’t have it. Running down
the stairs, taking two steps at a time, he reached Callum right as
he opened the wooden doors. The rain outside was pouring down
harder now, making it almost impossible to see outside clearly.

“I forbid you to leave!” he said through
clenched teeth. The guards stationed on either side of the door
looked nervous when he glanced in their direction. Neither would be
prepared to break up a fight between the crown princes. They also
happened to be his friends.

“What are you going to do to stop me?” They
met each other, their faces only inches away from one another.

“If you leave now, don’t expect to be
welcomed back.”

“Who said anything about coming back?”

There was a loud sound outside in the
courtyard, causing both of them and the guards to peer out into the
rain. A large black horse was stomping the ground in impatience.
Jameson had never seen such a beast. He realized then that two
other horses were there as well, their breath causing smoke to fill
the air. The riders who sat upon them wore dark cloaks, covering
their identities.

“What is this?” he asked, turning back to
face Callum. As he spoke, the Chancellor and High Priest reached
them. Both, he saw, immediately noticed the waiting guests.

“It appears to be my new family.” Callum
smiled bitterly. “Brother.” He turned on his heels and marched out
the palace doors, jumping onto the empty horse in one fluid motion.
Jameson and the others walked to the entrance, squinting to make
out his companions. The man who sat on the largest horse threw back
his hood, revealing a red beard and dark brown eyes. All three of
them froze, each realizing who Callum’s friend was. What was he
doing here? How had he arrived so quickly? The news of their
father’s illness had been announced only that day.

“Have a nice life, High King.” Callum pulled
his hood up over his face and turned his horse to retreat over the
bridge. As the others followed, the third man glanced over at
Jameson, nodding his head in a salute. The prince realized who he
was at the last second—Aziz, the most feared sorcerer from the
east. Three men, from three very different parts of Eden. It didn’t
make sense. What Jameson did know for certain was that whatever it
meant, it could not be good.

Suddenly the mourning bells began to ring
over their heads. It was over.

CHAPTER ONE

Fourth period was ending. Aiden knew Ms.
Whitiker was absent that day, so he decided on skipping fifth. It
had been a long and traumatic day, and an early ending would be
fitting. The morning had begun terribly with his arriving late, due
to his father’s old rust-covered Ford—that he refused to get rid
of—breaking down, and continued with Mr. Beck yelling at him in
front of the whole class. Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered
him, but Melissa happened to be in that class, making the
embarrassment almost unbearable. If he had the courage to turn
around and leave again, he would have. Unfortunately, he quickly
walked to his seat with his head down, banging his hip on the edge
of someone’s desk, almost causing him to fall on his face. Ignoring
the snickers, Aiden sat down and tried to make it through first
period.

If that hadn’t been the worst, the rest of
the day continued to spiral downward. He had forgotten about a test
in chemistry, resulting in a probable fail. Lunch was painful,
since the boys from grade twelve suddenly noticed him amongst the
crowd, and decided it would be fun to taunt him while he ate.
Melissa just happened to be sitting with them. She was dating
Bentley—who names their son Bentley? As if he didn’t already think
he was better than everyone else, they had to go and name him
something like that.

Fourth period had gone relatively well,
although it seemed to drag on, and all Aiden could think of was how
much he wanted to climb into his bed and never leave it again.
Maybe he could claim he was holding a peace protest and stay in bed
for a week. Nah, his parents would never go for that. He could
always pretend to be sick, he thought sensibly. The bell suddenly
rang, and multiple chairs scraped the floors as the students rushed
out to their next period. Aiden slowly got up and dragged his feet
to his locker.

“Aiden!” someone yelled out. He turned to
see Ethan speed-walking toward him.

“What’s up?” he called back in reply.

“What are you packing your bag for? Aren’t
you going to fifth?” Ethan raised his eyebrows in question.

“Nah, I’m just going to head home. It’s a
substitute teacher, so I figured I could miss a day.”

“Awesome! Where are we going?” He
smiled.

“We?”

“Well, if you’re not going to class, neither
am I. We can go for a walk to get pizza, or head over to the
park!”

“The park?” Aiden slammed his locker shut.
“Ethan, you know the park is where all the popular kids go when
they’re skipping school. I don’t really think we’d be welcome
there.”

“Aw, come on, Aid. How will we ever get
in
, if we don’t at least try?” he whined.

“You can’t just try to get ‘in,’ Ethan,” he
replied, applying quotations around the word
in
with his
fingers. “You’re either cool, or you’re not, and unfortunately in
our case, we’re not.”

“You suck. What are you going to do
then?”

“Go home and sleep.” He started to walk down
the stairs toward the front foyer. Ethan followed closely
behind.

“Does all this melodramatic behaviour have
anything to do with Bentley Ross throwing his pizza in your hair at
lunch?”

Aiden stopped on the last step, causing a
small niner to run right into him. He mumbled an apology while the
girl rushed around him with a red face. “Where did you hear about
that?” he asked angrily.

“Everyone heard about that, bud,” he
replied, looking apologetic. Clenching his teeth, Aiden dropped the
subject and continued out the doors to the bus stop. “So is that a
yes?”

“Look, I’m just tired, and I want to go
home. I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning when I’m on my way to
grab you.”

Thankfully, Ethan didn’t say another word.
Waving goodbye, he turned back and headed toward the portable area.
Aiden sat on the bench outside, cursing his life. The bus arrived
after five minutes, the doors opening like the doors to heaven. It
would take him home, away from the torture that was high school.
Life has to get better than it is now,
he thought wistfully.
High school was only four years of his life, but at this rate it
seemed like it would last forever. When the year began, he had
thought it would get mildly better. He wasn’t in grade nine
anymore, but ten didn’t seem to be improving at all.

The first hurdle he had to overcome was his
voice. Last year it had been in the midst of changing, and every
squeak caused him an immense amount of embarrassment. Over the
summer it had finally settled down, and now he had a nice smooth
voice. He had grown a bit, though he didn’t gain an ounce of
weight, even though he had tried all summer long. Against his
mother’s instructions, he had tried drinking protein shakes to put
on some pounds, but his overactive metabolism refused to be slowed
down. Now he was just tall and lanky, which wasn’t very attractive
to the girls in his school. His hair was a dark blond, and his eyes
were a light shade of green, but were hidden by his thick-rimmed
glasses.

In grade nine he had dated a girl named
Alicia, but that didn’t last long, and since then there had been no
others. He might be tall, and slightly underweight, but he didn’t
think his face was necessarily ugly. He had a strong, square jaw,
and a narrow, straight nose. He styled his hair in the way all the
other guys did, messy but styled, and yet no one seemed to notice
him. That was his problem: he simply blended into the background.
There was nothing that made him stand out in a crowd, nothing that
made him special. It was aggravating, and increasingly
depressing.