The Forgotten King Read online

  The Forgotten King

  Jonathan Dunn

  The Forgotten King is new ebook writen by Jonathan Dunn.

  The Forgotten King ebook is a history of the Dark Ages, of the forgotten ages that followed the fall of Rome. Civilization did not collapse with the Roman empire, however, but grew again on an island nation off the coast of Europe. It was called Atilta, a land of ancient forests and great, maritime capitals. At this time, it was at war with itself as its people fought for freedom. Yet the freedoms they desired were contradictory: some longed to overthrow their tyrannical king, others their tyrannical God. It was a fight of forest against city, and nature against civilization; of man against beast, and beast against God. But whom was the victor? For the island of Atilta is no longer to be found. Yet its history remains, embedded into the myths and legends of an exiled people. This is its story. This is the history of The Forgotten King.

  THE FORGOTTEN KING

  JONATHAN DUNN

  The Complete Serial Novel

  e-novel.org

  December 2004

  Dedicated to Stuart,

  For whom the adventures were written

  Copyright © 2004 Jonathan Dunn

  Book One:

  Chapter 1

  Do not ask me how he came to be there. Let it suffice to say simply that he was there, deep in a forest of the grandest trees imaginable, each standing straight and tall, like living towers that watched all in silent meditation. There he stood, clothed in a ragged green cloth that barely reached his knees and elbows, with a longsword sheathed at his side and a fierce light in his eyes. It was a light which could mean only one thing: independence. He walked slowly through the underbrush, looking about himself as if searching for some hidden beast that might at any moment spring forth and ambush him. Such was the way of the forest: one against all and all against one, strength against strength, survival of the fittest. Not that the forest was without law, for law is more than flesh and bone. Yet the law of the forest was this: give no mercy, for none will be given you; spare no tactic to conquer, for none will be spared you; forget no wrong and allow no insult. Such is the kingdom of nature.

  Do not ask me why he was there. Let it suffice to say simply that he was there, a solitary human amongst the creatures of the forest. A human he might have been, but still he was a beast of the field; for there was no refinement in him, no eloquence, no cultivation. There was, however, a spark within his breast, a light among the darkness that would sometimes show itself, revealing in its shadows the remnants of someone who was once there, before he had taken the course of nature and decayed into something inhuman, something of the forest.

  As he stood there, a burst of energy came from behind a few bushes to his left. It was followed by a howl and a thud, then footsteps – rapid and coming in his direction. A black bear burst forth from the bushes and charged toward him, with a swarm of bumble bees close behind, clawing at his backsides. The man leapt out of the way just in time to let them pass, and they vanished from sight as quickly as they had entered it.

  Most of the forest dwellers would then have quickly slid away, counting themselves lucky to have escaped an encounter with one of the black bears, the ruling caste in forest society. But the man was only an adopted member of the forest, and his natural propensities took over.

  “It is not for the sake of pleasure that bees chase bears, but for defense. And what do bees have to defend besides honey?” Such was the thought process of the man, and it was then that the law of the forest reared its influence within him. In the deep forest, honey is the most coveted delicacy, a sweet diversion from meat and roots. The bees congregated to protect themselves, forming a monopoly of such delicacies in only a few large hives. Such an opportunity as this could not be missed.

  The man took the pot that was strapped to his back, emptied it of its mushrooms, and quickly made his way in the direction from which the bear had come. It took little tracking skill to see which tree the bear had been in, for its scratched limbs displayed the bear’s exact path of retreat. The man followed them upwards and soon found himself at a deserted hive of liquid gold. He quickly filled his pot and – with a light step – made his way down the tree, sparing no haste in order to be gone before the bees returned. He went off to the northwest – downwind of the hive – shifting his path to the southwest after half a mile and entering a clear, open part of the forest. Ancient trees dominated the area, leaving no sunlight for any undergrowth; instead, it created a widespread porch: the trees pillars and their leaves a roof. A soft grass clothed the ground, littered with white bell flowers that smelled of butter – not that the man knew they did, for he had not smelled butter for many years.

  He walked slowly and cautiously, making enough noise to broadcast his presence to even the most preoccupied of animals. His task was difficult – as risky as it was unprecedented – for the man had recognized the bear as one of the great hunters of the region, and knew he made his home in the area. And yet the bear was known to show mercy to his prey: sparing children and their mothers when few other animals would substitute the pleasures of tender meat with thoughts of mercy to the newborn. It was this strange quality that drove the man onward in his dangerous mission.

  At last, the man came to the cave, kicking leaves before him as smoke before the fire. The bear angrily stuck out his nose, wondering who disturbed him in his pain. When he saw the man, he remembered passing him in his retreat and turned his head slightly to the left, donning a curious expression. His ears became erect and his eyes wary. The man advanced a step and placed the pot on the ground, bowing and stepping back. The bear came forward to inspect the pot. He tasted it and – seeing it was indeed honey – looked up once more at the man, who merely lowered his head to show submission.

  The man began making signals to the bear, communicating the recent happenings. First, he imitated how the bear was chased by the bees; then, how he retrieved the honey; finally, how he offered it to the bear as a gift. At first the bear was confused, for this was unprecedented in the forest: showing mercy to one’s enemy. Indeed, under the forest law, the honey was worth more than the man’s life.

  The bear thought for a moment. Then – as if relieved of a burden – he walked up to the man, snuggling his nose against his face like an excited dog. He stood upright and let out a resounding howl, a sound that frightened every animal within hearing. Except the man; for he had nothing to fear.

  The forest law was a strange thing, for while it was heartless and wild, there were great bonds that could be made between two animals – or between a man and an animal. One of these was the Bond of the Blood Brother, joining the two as if they were of the same womb. Blood brothers became hunting partners, sharing the same game and habitation, protecting each other in the face of danger, and becoming inseparable companions.

  The man had made a gamble that was quite daring, but in the end rewarding – for he made an alliance between a being of great strength and one of great wit. The pot of honey, seemingly meaningless to those outside the forest, represented his life – for its value was more than his own. It was as if he had sacrificed himself for the bear. There is no greater thing that one can do, and so they became blood brothers. It cleared the way for the man to become the king of all the forest, and eventually of all the land. How does he do this? Well, you will see soon enough.

  Chapter 2

  The ancient forest covered all of Atilta, an island some distance off the coast of France. Atilta was several hundred miles across, and the forest hung heavily upon it, to the extent that the entire country was simply referred to as “The Forest.” There were but few castles and fiefs within its borders, the lands of the more independent nobles. Some fifteen years before this time there had b
een a coup. The man who ascended the throne punished his enemies by sending them away from the center of power, and thereby away from hopes of riches and glory. As for the interior of the forest, it was ruled only by its own laws. There were a few inns along the principle roads, and a number of rangers, or forest dwellers. But these men kept to the canopy of the forest, rather than the ground. Our man, however, was not among them.

  “Who was this man?” you ask, “Dwelling away from humanity in his own little kingdom?” And I could easily answer that question, yet I will not. For it is my duty to relate to you only such information as was known at the time. This is a history which until now has been unknown. Its presence was purposefully concealed by the royal families of Europe, until – just as those families themselves – it has faded away and is forgotten. With it is missing a great link between the modern and the ancient times, the light which fills what we call the Dark Ages. It is this history that I tell.

  The man’s name was Willard, and he knew it, though he did not know where it came from or why it was so. It was simply Willard – no reason, no explanation. Willard was twenty years old, which generally means he was no man at all, but liked to think himself a particularly great one. Yet, seeing as he knew no other men, this illusion – though unhampered – was meaningless. Willard was neither tall nor short, but somewhere in the middle. His appearance was not at a loss for this though, as his face was strikingly beautiful. His nose was long and angular, his eyes reflective. His hair was as black and as long as night, hanging down to his shoulders. There was a thick beard upon his face that masked most of his features, and made him seem secretive. He looked like a beast, but also like he could have been a prince.

  The sword he wore at his waist was also beautiful: carefully crafted, with a golden handle and blade, each wrought with pictures that told the story of some ancient family. By all appearances, it would have cost the lives of as many men under human law as honey under forest law. As to how a wild man came to be in possession of such a costly weapon, that will be seen later.

  The black bear, whose name was Horatio, was gigantic: six feet tall when he stood erect on his feet, which he could do with surprising ease. His fur was black and his eyes brown, though strangely gentle. While he could not talk, he could grunt in such a manner that people could be persuaded he was speaking some foreign language. He was bright, as well, and could communicate through gestures. There was something strange in the forests of Atilta, which gave the animals a greater intelligence than mere brutes, and there was also something strange between the man Willard and the bear Horatio. They could understand one another, and communicate through signs which others could not decipher.

  These things happened right at the time of year when spring gives way to summer. The region of the forest in which Willard and Horatio lived was in the center of Atilta. Its trees were grand and spaced far apart, and the underbrush sparse and mostly of a short, soft grass. There was a perpetual twilight below the roof of the woods, leaving life and leisure to linger in the shade. The air was dense and damp, a drought of water at every breath.

  A few roads pierced the forest, and the main one stretched from the center of the western coast to the far eastern side of the southern coast. The forest rangers lived apart from the main population, with a system of roads that ran among the branches of the canopy in which they lived; but, for now, it is the road between Thunder Bay and the capital city, Eden, which concerns us. Willard and Horatio were hunting near it one day, making their way silently along its edge and tracking the animals that lingered there.

  Their usual method of hunting was this: Horatio crept up to an animal and frightened it away in a certain direction, where Willard sat in ambush. It worked well. They were doing this, with Willard hidden by the roadside and Horatio some way off into the forest, when the sound of a carriage came from around a bend in the road. The bear gave Willard a questioning look, which was answered by a gesture to hide. They both knelt behind a tree, Willard alongside the road and Horatio some way back from it.

  The carriage that came up was a stately conveyance, made of wood and designed to be both comfortable and defensive. This martial attitude was on account of the bandits which had arisen after the coup, sanctioned by the usurper’s Elite Guards. Inside the carriage was a man in his late forties, dressed nicely and having the look of a feudal lord. Around him were three guards, generally intimidating with their sharp countenances and sharper swords. The lord in the carriage was conversing with one of the guards, when, from the trees on the side of the road directly opposite Willard, a group of bandits leapt out and struck at the guards. The latter put up a fierce resistance to the outlaws, but eventually the guards were overcome without slaying any of the six thieves, who were each armed with a sword and covered with a tough leather jerkin.

  When he saw they were defeated, and the lord in the carriage harassed and mistreated, something arose in Willard – from he knew not where – that made him indignant to see authority treated in such a manner. His blood quickly came to a boil, and without thinking he jumped up and onto the road.

  “Hold yourselves, bandits,” he cried, “And do not mistreat the innocent traveler – or I will hold you myself, and I trust you will not like my grip!”

  The bandits were somewhat taken aback at the sight of a wild man brandishing a gloriously crafted sword and commanding them to relent with an intelligent and forceful voice. For a moment, they stared at him in confusion. But their leader, a tall man with a noble countenance – looking more like an officer or an educated man than a bandit – spurred his men forward, their swords drawn and extended before them. The leader reached Willard before his men, and the two engaged in a brief melee before the others arrived.

  Many years of forest life had given Willard great strength and dexterity, and he seemed to have some innate knowledge of swordplay, as if he had been trained in it some time in his distant youth. The swords of the two men met between them, each pushing with his strong wrists and eying his antagonist with raw determination. Willard made the first offensive by pivoting on his left foot and withdrawing his sword from the grapple it had been engaged in. But he did not leave it disengaged for long, for he thrust it at the bandit’s stomach. The latter whipped his wrist to the side and diverted Willard’s blade from its intended course. Then, pressing down upon his lips, he drove forward with an overhand swing at Willard’s head. But the forest man was too quick for him, and was already to the bandit’s left, behind the swing of his blade. Thus, he had the man’s undefended side turned to him.

  Willard’s forest nature allowed him to show no mercy, and he ran his blade through the bandit’s belly. The other five bandits reached him just at this moment, however, and Willard – unable to parry five blows at once – fell back into the forest. Seeing his protector thus forced back, the lord in the carriage hung his head, so as not to see his demise.

  What he kept himself from seeing, however, was Willard draw them into the forest and a black bear suddenly leap from the bushes, bringing down two from behind with his giant claws. The others soon followed them, surprised and out-maneuvered by the partners of the forest. All this took up only an instant of time, and when the lord again looked up, he was amazed to see the dead bodies of his antagonists deposited half in the forest and half on the road. He could see no one but Willard, for Horatio had again vanished behind the bushes, and he was astounded at the wild man and his marvelous sword. Willard advanced and asked the man if he was well.

  “Am I well?” the lord answered, his arms flaying about in agitation, “What a question from a god to mere man! If I were rude, I should ask you how a wild man could wield such an exquisite sword, and do so with such surpassing skill. But I am not, so I will not ask, nor what type of being you are, a king or a prince?”

  Willard smiled at the man’s indiscreet questioning, and opened his mouth to reply.

  “My lord, I am indeed a prince,” was the first thing to enter his mind, and so he said it. “Prince Willard
of Bombay, and heir to the throne of the same.” He lied, but the vigors of battle took up office in his tongue and gave him the resonance of truth. The feudal lord, in his excitement, believed him.

  “Tell me, Prince Willard,” he said, “How is it that you came to be here, to all appearances a barbarian of the forest? If it is by treachery that you find yourself exiled to the wilderness, know that I share your fate, and that what is mine is yours as well,” and his arms moved back and forth in wild gestures. “Bombay is a great kingdom, but have they fallen to the depth of regicide, even as our great Atilta has?” The lord had never heard of Bombay, but at that moment, Willard’s word was canonical.

  “Your kindness disarms me,” Willard said, and he bowed lowly and sheathed his sword. He saw the length to which his words of whim had taken the feudal lord, and so decided to diffuse the situation with a greater falsehood. “Your kindness disarms me,” he said, “But I cannot accept your gifts, for I am on a voluntary exile, which every crown prince of Bombay has taken. We must learn to live as the poorest of the peasants, to face the gravest of dangers, and to feel the grandest of loves, before we can take the throne.”

  The mind of the lord turned over within his head. He looked at Willard’s tattered clothing and said, “There is none poorer than yourself, and just now you have faced the gravest of dangers. Is not your exile fulfilled, and the throne yours?” He knew there was a missing requirement, but that was his reason for asking.

  “No, good man. I must also find love.”

  “But can something be found if it is not sought? Come to my castle with me – my daughter is very lovely to the eyes.”

  “It is not for the eyes that one seeks a woman,” Willard said, growing anxious, “But for the heart.”

  “True, yet my daughter is also one of great heart. Come with me, then, and fulfill the last requirement of your exile.”