Legon Awakening: Book One in the Legon Series

Text copyright © 2010 by Nicholas Taylor

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www.NicholasTaylor.co

First of all I have to thank my family for
all their support through this whole process.

My cousin Ryan for being one of the biggest
supports

My wonderful editor Tom Peterson

Chris Snelgrove and his constant help

Collin Earl and all of his encouragement

My good friend Denise Garrett for always
being willing give me her input.

And most of all I would like to thank the
Legionaries. You guys are amazing

A New Star

“
Those at the serpent’s head first
swallow the tail of defeat.”

-Articles of the Mahann

The Senashow walked down a passage taking in his
surroundings, trying to remember how to get to the queen’s study.
His eyes scanned the dim, torch-lit hall. Flickering light played
on the granite, giving it the appearance of shifting in and out of
existence. The smell was earthy from the recent rain; he could
still taste the last bit of moisture. The scent was not unpleasant;
it reminded him of home, as did stone. Most men had a difficult
time walking these dark halls without tripping on the uneven stone
floor or occasional rug, but this was not a problem for the
Senashow, for he wasn’t a man. He was not even human, for that
matter.

It was a cool spring night and the castle seemed
drafty and cold, no doubt from the feeble craftsmanship of dull
human hands. The Senashow hated these old human dwellings. They
were so poorly made that they didn’t even keep out the cold. It was
cold at home too, but at least you didn’t feel the wind. He
honestly didn’t know how these creatures had made it out of the
Stone Age.

A particularly uneven stone on the floor caught his
attention. Pathetic beasts, thought the Senashow as he walked. They
aren’t fit to clean our boot straps, and here our queen, their
queen for that matter, is living among them. Disgusting! That was
beside the point now. There were more pressing matters on the
Senashow’s mind. What if the prophecy is true? What if the new star
in the sky this night is a sign that it is coming true? It was not
in his nature to believe in what he would call “mindless
mysticism,” but he did know that the resistance and the crusade
twigs did. If there was anything worse than people believing in
prophecies, it was that people usually found ways to make them come
true. It was for that reason that he was in this horrid place
tonight. One of the signs of the prophecy had come to pass not more
than one day ago.

As he passed another corridor he saw a door at the
end open, flooding the hallway with light. B
ah
, thought the
Senashow,
the animals can’t even see unless it’s as bright as
the noonday sun
. He was by the kitchens that, when revealed,
were full of light that enabled the servants, or rather the slaves,
to see what they were doing. As the warm air from the cook fires
flowed into the hall, the smell of the food forced him to admit
that at least the animals could be taught to cook. Whenever the
Senashow passed too close to people he would catch little glimpses
into their minds, if you could even call them that. Most showed the
fear and panic that the servants felt upon seeing him. G
ood.
Fear your masters, filthy apes
! he thought with derision.

As he approached the Queen’s study, he could see the
door at the end of the hall. There was a man coming out, another
Iumenta like himself. He knew this person. It was Parkas, the
Queen’s chief warlord. He was a tall, slender man, with a firm jaw
line and an almost wolf-like appearance. His light grey skin shone
in contrast to the dark hall, accented by thin lips and pale yellow
eyes. At first glance he looked almost weak and frail, but he was
an Iumenta like the Senashow. Iumentas, like elves, had deceiving
appearances. They were at least fifteen times stronger and faster
than any human, with sight rivaling that of any bird of prey, and
such sensitive hearing that they can hear a heartbeat across a
room. They also were as close to immortal as was possible; they did
not age, and would live forever unless physically killed.

None of the Elves or Iumenta looked to be over
twenty-five years old. Parkas had been the queen’s chief warlord
for over a hundred years. His long silver hair came down past his
shoulders, and he was wearing a black belt with a sword attached to
it. The sword was in a grey sheath with a polished steel handle. A
sapphire embedded in the hilt glinted in the near non-existent
light, so fine was its quality.

The Senashow could see that Parkas was looking
flustered and displeased. He obviously did not have a good
conversation with the queen. F
antastic,
thought the
Senashow. The queen was temperamental in the best of times, but to
have her already upset before he even delivered the news of the
prophecy.... The Senashow knew that the news of the prophecy would
enrage the queen if she took it seriously, and she should, because
it was always an uncomfortable subject.

He walked up to the door and knocked three times. A
cold voice came from within.

“Enter.”

The Senashow opened the door and entered the room.
The Queen was standing in front of an archway that led outside to a
terrace and the castle gardens. The candle light mingled with
moonlight, bathing the room’s many books and paintings in warmth.
The light from the fireplace against the far wall added an almost
peaceful glow. The fireplace itself was square and framed in white
marble. His eye moved up the large mantle piece above, which was a
tapestry.

It was this tapestry that grasped his attention. It
was about half as tall as the room and was made of black silk. In
the center of the tapestry sat a silver six-pointed star with a
solid pale green circle in the center. Around the star was a half
circle in the same color green, and on the other side of the star
were four smaller six-pointed stars, which were dark gold in color.
He walked across the study to place a roll of parchment on the
marble inlayed desk, unrolled it and took a quill from the gleaming
bronze set to sign his name. Out of the corner of his eye he
watched the silent queen as she gazed at the fireplace, where on
either side perched two polished bronze dragons. Their tails wound
toward the fire and reflected the light across the dragon’s bodies,
giving them the appearance of almost dancing in the shifting
light.

The Senashow moved to stand in the center of the
room. A fine white and black rug with a depiction of two dragons
battling was at his feet. Like the bronze set by the fire, the
queen would often look at these dragons for hours while she
contemplated. Tonight was no different than most. She stood on the
rug looking at the fire. She was wearing a floor-length dress of
crushed black velvet, her long sable hair flowing like a waterfall
down her back. He caught the aroma of her perfume; it was a light
sweet scent that reminded him of the sap of scrub brushes from
their homeland. The fragrance was deceiving; it made her seem
playful and gentle, like just another silly noblewoman, something
she was not.

She turned to look at him. Her yellow eyes bored into
him. Irritation was etched onto her strong face, her thin maroon
lips pursed in a way that he knew all too well. She was wearing a
black pearl necklace high on her neck. From it hung a large
pale-green stone in the shape of a tear. The stone was not a
gemstone, but it still shone brilliantly, and was surrounded with
gold. A small grimace crossed her face. She knew that he did not
bring good news.

“Good evening, my queen,” the Senashow said, vainly
hoping her mood would soften with some pleasantries.

“Is it?” asked the queen in a cold voice. “My dinner
is late and I just spent over an hour with Parkas listening to
excuses about why the resistance is still standing. Now I suppose I
get to listen to more good news from you?”

It was obvious that she was indeed in a bad mood
tonight, and that there would be no swaying it. The Senashow paused
for a moment to contemplate how to deliver his news to the
queen.

She stood there looking at him with those yellow
eyes. Her lips were pressed together again and her grey skin seemed
to glow with a hot anger. Despite the heat of the fury flowing off
her, the Senashow felt ice cold. Her rage would break soon, and he
wasn’t sure he could stand the force of it. He didn’t know and,
thankfully for him, he would not have to find out.

At that moment there was another knock at the
door.

“Enter!” said the queen with a growl. She was
starting to lose control.

A small servant wearing a cream-colored tunic entered
the room carrying a gilded silver tray of food in one hand and a
glass of wine in the other. As he entered the room, the Senashow
stole into the boy’s mind. It was full of fear; he knew that he was
late bringing the queen’s food. The chefs in the kitchen were
running behind because the queen had changed her mind at the last
second, and the boy was terrified that she would hurt him, or
worse, his older brother who worked in the stables. His thoughts
were plain on his countenance; the boy looked as though a breath of
wind could destroy him. He was trembling slightly and froze in the
doorway. The boy could see that the queen was angry.

“Don’t just stand there dog! Bring me my food!”
roared the queen. Her anger was palpable in the room. A wicked
sneer began to tug at the Senashow’s lips. He knew that the queen’s
rage would soon be taken out on the servant. He might be able to
salvage the night after all.

As the boy crossed the room, his foot caught on the
fine rug. He tried to catch himself, but to no avail. The contents
of the tray went flying at the queen as the boy toppled toward her.
With inhuman speed the queen sidestepped the oncoming food and
grabbed the tray out of the air. She swung it at the boy, catching
him in the mouth. There was a crunching sound and a stifled scream.
Blood sprayed out of the servant’s mouth and arced across the room,
covering the wall with crimson droplets. The Senashow felt a slight
plop on his chest. He looked down to see a small white pebble on
the floor covered in blood. It was one of the boy’s teeth. The boy
was on the ground with a hand clamped over his mouth, his tunic now
scarlet with copious amounts of blood pouring from his ruined face
onto the fine rug. The air became saturated with the salty metallic
tang of blood. Oddly, the Senashow thought that this new smell
somehow added to that of the food. He thought he might go by the
kitchens after he left the queen’s study and partake of the
offerings .