Obedience & Loyalty
Underland and the Forehidden Kingdom, Chapter 26
Underland and the Forehidden Kingdom is a serialised, young adult, fantasy novel about an overconfident bookworm who finds himself in a parallel world where words are weapons, ideologies form fortresses, and intelligence without integrity may just cost you everything. If you’re new here, you can start from the beginning or check out the index.
RECAP: After absorbing his Mirror and collapsing into the ground, Keon finds himself in the oceans surrounding the Empyrean. There, in the gigantic golden city, he meets the Scribe who bestows upon him the lit signet of the King and the gift of a short-sword capable of destroying the walls of Strongholds. Officially a Torchbearer, he and his Mirror are now one and the path before them is perilous. Keon chooses to return to Underland to finish what he started.
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Keon sank underneath the surface.
Darkness enveloped him.
The ground vanished beneath his feet—and he panicked.
Pillars of gesticulating light scattered across his face as he thrashed about in the waters. Suddenly, heavy arms hooked his armpits, crossed his chest and as swiftly as he descended, he was heaved out of the water; dragged with such force that the gaggle of interlocking arms almost tumbled back into the pool.
Spluttering and wiping droplets from his face, he turned left to right, looking straight into the beaming faces of the Millionth and Fifth. There was no time to register shock or relief. Both were bear-hugged out of him.
Squeezed somewhere between Dawit’s chest and Kai’s armpit, he squinted through the masses until he locked eyes with Zahara. Her neck pulsed as she swallowed whatever it was she was feeling.
“Flip sake AJ!”
She shoved the other two aside and flung her arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder. He clasped the back of her shawl, heaviness leaking off his shoulders as they sank, his breath blowing out his nostrils. Her soaked hood scrunched between his fingers until it felt dry. Reluctantly, they pulled away and her eyes ballooned. She grabbed at the bloodstained tear in his tunic. He was back in his armour.
“Did something happen to your arm?!”
“It’s fine now, I’m ok…”
To his left, Jonas shook the same shoulder so hard he could’ve torn the wound back open, but there was warmth behind his grasp. Fondness. He signed what looked like, “Welcome back” and Keon nodded in reply. Then, he lifted his eyes and spied Avana and Shem. Before he could think, Avana hopped through the pool and threw herself around his waist, pulling him tight. His eyes bulged as he felt his feet leave the ground, his arms hanging in mid-air. This was weird. Way too weird. After a moment, she put him down, pulled away and stared up at him, her hands clasping his arms.
“You didn’t run. You stood your ground,” she said.
He about managed a nod.
She balled a fist and punched him playfully in the arm.
“I knew you could do it!”
She did?
“That’s about as close to a ‘well done’ as you’re gonna get, mate,” said Shem, slinging an arm across his neck and pulling him into an awkward side-hug.
Finally, he caught sight of Asya. She breathed in, exhaled, and nodded. He nodded back—then Dawit and Kai tackled him from behind, the three of them collapsing into a cackling mass.
“You did it brother! You actually made it!” said Dawit.
“I’ll admit, we had our doubts,” added Kai.
“Wait. You all knew?”
He whipped around, knowing grins on all their faces.
“I told you before, mate,” said Shem, with an earnest shake of the shoulder, “We’ve all been there.”
Keon wiped fresh droplets from his face.
“Can I see him?”
Wellworn stood before a wide wooden table, darkened with age but beautiful in all its edges. It had been cloven crosswise from a gigantic oak; polished, yet untouched by a chisel.
His back was turned, hands clasped behind it. For a moment Keon feared he would vanish before he had a chance to look at him. He needed to see his face; to know he was real. At their approach Wellworn straightened, and half-turned, smiling over his shoulder.
“Master Wesley.”
His smile stopped Keon in his tracks. He wasn’t dressed appropriately! He was trailing water everywhere! Mum would kill him if she knew he was meeting royalty like this! Bloody hell, he hadn’t even brushed his teeth since God knows when! Did he have time to check his breath? No! Zahara was standing right beside him! Did he bow? Did he salute? Did he dap? What was the protocol?
Wellworn turned to face him.
“In case you were wondering, you look fine.”
“I…I’ve never met a King before,” Keon said, sheepish. He wanted to look him in the eye but couldn’t stop his own eyes averting. “My mum has all these rules, like…”
“It is alright.”
“It’s not,” Keon scoffed, shaking his head. “I said some things before—and I’ve thought a whole lot worse…”
“I know,” said Wellworn, dismissing it with a nod like vapour on the breeze. In that moment, Keon should have felt shame. Normally he would have curled up internally like a ball then lashed out to hide how he really felt. But not this time. Everything rolled away under the warmth of Wellworn’s acceptance. And suddenly, all his thoughts about him were poetic and a song threatened to rise in his throat. Get a grip! Guys from the Ends didn’t do that kind of thing. Whatever it was, he tried to squash it and blink back to reality, but when he opened his eyes, the truth was still there standing before him.
Wellworn approached, looming over him, but it felt more protective than intimidating; like Keon could hide under his shadow. In that moment he felt convinced he could do anything. That he was strong beyond his wildest imaginations.
“Are you ok?” said Wellworn.
Keon hesitated, his eyes searching. Wellworn lifted his gaze to the Millionth and Fifth.
“Would you give Keon and I a moment please.”
Keon waited until they were all out of earshot. He looked up at Wellworn, his eyes moistening at the edges. As they flittered from left to right, Wellworn’s scars seemed to vanish at the edges of his vision only to reappear when Keon focused on them. No wonder Asya couldn’t stop staring before.
“So, the King is…”
“He is.”
“And you are…”
“I am.”
Keon shuffled in silence.
“What is it?” asked Wellworn.
“You just—you really weren’t what I was expecting,” he said, eyeing the scruffy jacket.
Wellworn just smiled and Keon swallowed.
“You have questions,” said Wellworn.
“So many…” He paused in anticipation. “Like—crane flies man. Just—why?”
Wellworn held his fists to his waist, threw his head back and bellowed in a manner more befitting of Santa Claus. It was infectious, though Keon wasn’t nearly as unreserved as Wellworn. The Scarred Warrior wiped a solitary tear of merriment from the corner of his eye.
“I have waited a long time for you to ask me that question.”
“No way…”
“It is true.”
“So, do I get an answer?”
“It was the King’s idea.”
Keon’s brow went up, and the other went down.
“Naaaah! That’s cheatin’!”
Wellworn chuckled and leaned in close.
“And this, Keon Wesley, is one of the things I treasure most about you. Your ability to ask good questions. It is one of your greatest gifts. Asking the right questions will lead you to truth and truth will become your most powerful asset.”
“Why truth?”
“Because through it you will make my strength your own.”
“You sayin’ I’ll be able to crush Morningstars?”
Wellworn chuckled.
“No. Not quite that dramatic. But through this gift you will help bring freedom to others.”
Keon paused.
“Like my dad…”
“I must caution you though, Keon. Like all power, truth and the ability to ask good questions can be abused. They will make you strong, but you must learn how to use that strength wisely.”
“How?”
Wellworn placed a broad hand over Keon’s chest.
“It starts here. Master this tool and you will learn how to wield all others.”
Keon blinked in thought, then lifted his eyes.
“I have to tell you something—though, to be fair, you probably know it all already. I dunno. I dunno how this works…”
Wellworn waited.
“Asya’s brother, Aslan. He found my Mirror. I dunno how, but he caught it, and he was gonna take it back to Midnah-Dogu and use it as ransom for Asya.”
“I see. And you did not wish for her to know?”
“Well, I figured—like—you’re the Captain. I thought you should know first.”
“That is true,” Wellworn nodded, “but that is not the real reason, is it?”
Keon swallowed, averting his eyes again, knowing this guy—no—this King, could see right through him.
“If they somehow track her here—I mean—you can protect her, right?”
“What do you think?”
Keon huffed a chuckle and shrugged.
“I think you can do anything.”
Wellworn smiled, patting him on the shoulder.
“And that is as good a place as any to start.”
Keon frowned as Wellworn led him away from the table.
“So, wait, what are we gonna do?”
“We are not going to do anything. Let me deal with Asya. You have more pressing matters to attend to.”
“Like what?”
Wellworn smiled.
“You wanted to learn Mirror Mastery, yes? Tell me, after all that you have seen, what do you think Mirror Mastery is?”
Keon chewed his lip in thought.
“Well, if my Mirror is really me…then, Mirror Mastery is the mastery of the self…”
Wellworn nodded, slowly.
“Self-control. A discipline, not a power. And self-control requires wisdom, humility, patience, restraint.”
Keon shuffled uncomfortably as Wellworn paced around him.
“I know. You feel that some of those are in short supply.”
Try all of them.
“So, how do I get more wisdom?” Keon shrugged.
Wellworn stopped.
“You ask.”
Keon frowned.
“You think that is too simple,” said Wellworn.
“Well…yeah!” he replied, despondent.
“How do you expect to gain wisdom if you believe you already have it?”
“I don’t know…I just…” he flapped his arms, “I know it ain’t that simple.”
It was Wellworn’s turn to raise a brow.
“You do not know, and yet you are so certain that you know?”
Keon could feel himself deflating under the weight of his own ignorance.
“I mean—I know some stuff!”
Wellworn exhaled, looking up at the canopy.
“Allow me to relate to you the words of a wise man. A wise man once said, ‘Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit, but wisdom—wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad.’”
Keon’s brow buckled, then broke with laughter.
“That’s actually pretty deep.”
Wellworn approached and put both heavy hands on Keon’s shoulders.
“You are full of knowledge, Keon Wesley; but wisdom is knowing the best way to use that knowledge. A wise man knows where he lacks understanding but has wisdom enough to seek out those who know better than he. Do not be wise in your own eyes, and do not depend on your own understanding.”
Keon shrugged, resigning to the truth.
“So, whose understanding should I depend on then?”
Wellworn winked and patted his shoulder as if kneading the point in. Keon nodded silently.
“Are you ready?” said Wellworn.
“I don’t think so…”
“Good!”
Without another word, Wellworn walked away, and Keon scrambled after him.
“Wait, where are we going?”
“It is time for your first lesson in Mirror Mastery.”
They walked for several minutes through the lush gardens of the Eastern Monument. Wellworn led him to another pool, not dissimilar to the one he’d been dragged into the other day, only this one was nestled within something like an oasis, its edges bordered by golden sand and dust. There was a break in the trees and foliage that allowed them to peek out over the rest of the island.
Wellworn stood by the edge of the pool and gestured for Keon to approach.
“Come, tell me what you see.”
Keon hesitated, then leaned over the edge. The water was still, his form casting a perfect reflection in it. As he stared at it, he noticed a subtle glint deep in his eyes and wondered if they were playing tricks on him.
“I see my reflection…”
“And how is it that a reflection is made?”
Keon’s eyes narrowed.
“Through light. The reflection of light.”
Wellworn nodded.
“Your Mirror, like your reflection, is bound to you by the light. Where you go, it will follow. However, just like light, it can be bent.”
Keon straightened to attention.
“You’re sayin’ we can split—like Moonlamps split from their Mirrors? How?”
Wellworn smiled, looking down.
“Through what we call a Covenant. A partnership born of mutual interest.”
“A truce…” his thoughts wandered back to the forest; to the deal he’d struck with his Mirror.
Wellworn walked in a circle around the pool, Keon following close behind. His eyes were drawn to the water; to his reflection following his every step and movement.
“Your Mirror told you that he wants the same thing you do. Now, this can often be a problem, but there are times when both of your needs and intentions will align. For example…”
He stopped and gestured to Keon.
“You are thirsty.”
Keon didn’t bother questioning how he knew.
“Your body needs water to survive. A lack of water can affect your ability to think, to focus. Thus, it is in both of your best interests to drink. So…” From within his jacket, Wellworn produced a flask, but not just any flask. It was the same one Keon had lost in the river. “You will be needing this.”
Keon huffed a chuckle of unbelief and received it gladly. Wellworn motioned to the pool.
“Have a drink.”
Keon held it under the water until it was full, raised it up, and downed it in one go.
“You want more,” said Wellworn.
Keon gasped.
“Yeah!”
“Fill it up again, only this time,” he held up a finger for emphasis, then punched his palm with the other fist, “focus on what it is you wish to do, strike your palm like this, and then fill your flask.”
Keon cocked his head to one side.
“Really?”
Wellworn folded his arms, waiting. Keon shrugged and turned to the water. He stared at it, flask in hand; pictured himself reaching down to fill it with water and then punched his palm. Other than a loud clap, nothing happened. A gust of wind blew past him, and he turned to look at Wellworn. Wellworn gestured to the water again. Keon reached down to fill the canteen and froze. He wasn’t alone. There was a shadow beside him. Turning to his left, he saw his reflection staring back at him—only it wasn’t in the water; it was standing right next to him, reaching towards the water with a canteen of its own. His heart began drumming in his chest, and suddenly the reflection dropped its flask and pelted towards him, eyes wild with that white, reflective light.
Wellworn motioned with a sweep of his hand and the Mirror slapped back into Keon, spinning him around and knocking him into the water. Keon thrashed about, realised the pool was shallow and stood up.
“THE HELL WAS THAT?!”
“Bending the reflection,” Wellworn said, glancing at his hand before withdrawing it behind his back. “Again! Only this time, do not lose focus on what it is you are doing.”
Keon waded back to the bank.
“That wasn’t cool, man! You could’ve warned me.”
Wellworn grinned.
“You would not have believed me if I told you.”
Keon repositioned himself at the edge of the pool, flask in hand. He took a deep breath, eyes on the water, and struck his palm. This time it was unmistakable. There was a crackle, a flash, a sudden gust of wind and his Mirror stood beside him. He held his focus on the water and lowered the flask. His Mirror mirrored his movements. Once it was full, he raised it slowly, side-eyeing the Mirror who did the same. When the flask touched its lips, the Mirror guzzled it ravenously. Keon raised an eyebrow. Clearly this guy was really thirsty.
“Now,” said Wellworn. “Put him back.”
Keon frowned, unsure of what he meant; then his face lit up with understanding. He grinned at his Mirror, then struck his palm again.
“See ya!”
The Mirror vanished with another crack, a plume of dust exploding from the ground where it once stood. Keon turned to Wellworn, nodding vigorously.
“That was sick!”
He belched loud and jammed his hand over his mouth.
“Sorry.”
Wellworn continued, unfazed.
“The need to satisfy your thirst united you and your Mirror—mind and body—in a single purpose. That shared purpose is how you ‘bent the reflection’; akin to two lines converging on a single point like an arrow. Together, you were able to achieve twice the work with only half the effort. However,” he stopped, raising a finger. “Only one of you was in control.”
“I was,” said Keon, confident.
“And when you lost focus?”
Keon averted his eyes.
“It moved independently. It went for me…”
“For your Codex.”
Keon swallowed.
“Notice that your Mirror reflected you perfectly, down to every detail, except for your Codex.”
Wellworn approached the edge of the pool and motioned him over. He crouched down low to the ground and began drawing something into the golden, sand-like dust with his index finger; two overlapping circles like a Venn diagram.
“What’s that?”
“That is you,” Wellworn said, pointing to the circle on the left. “The other is your Mirror.”
Keon pointed to the oval at the centre where the circles overlapped.
“And this? What’s that?”
“That, Keon Wesley, is your Codex. The point in Underland where you and your Mirror meet. Think of it as a bridge. Whoever controls that bridge controls whatsoever is connected to it.”
Keon’s hand hovered over his chest.
“And a Codex is a record of your memories, thoughts, dreams and fears,” he said.
“Yes. And do you remember what I told you about this war we are fighting?”
“That we’re fighting ideas. Bad ideas.”
Wellworn nodded.
“The first Mynds you face will be your own, because this,” he tapped Keon’s forehead, “is a battlefield. That is why you must never let your Mirror get a hold of your Codex. Its desire will ever be to rule over you, but you must rule over it. If it can use how you feel to control the way you think, it can control everything you do. For this reason, a Torchbearer must know how to control his or her own body in honour and service to the King, not in foolish passions and pursuits like everyone else. Now, how do you think you control the body?”
“Through the mind,” Keon said.
Wellworn gave a single, firm nod.
“That is the point of Mirror Mastery.”
Keon sprang to his feet, shook his arms out and pressed his fingers to his temples.
“Ok…so I just gotta learn to control my thoughts.”
“More than that, Keon. You must take them captive. All of them.”
“Then what?”
“Bring them to me.”
Keon stopped bouncing on his heels and rubbed his eyes.
“Wait…you’re being serious, aren’t you?”
Wellworn smiled and gestured towards the edges of the island.
“Every Mynd out there began life as a rogue thought in someone’s head.”
“So, we aren’t just going out there to fight random Mynds—we’re fighting our own.”
“Yes,” Wellworn nodded with a smile.
“How do I know which ones are mine?”
Wellworn rose, dusting off his hands.
“Like a Mirror, they will ever be drawn to you, for they too seek control.”
“Lemme guess, they take Mirrors captive to control Torchbearers—just like Mysts and Moonlamps—and by keeping them captive—they enslave people to whatever way of thinking the Morningstars want.”
“You have a keen mind Keon Wesley.”
Keon crouched down, staring at the intertwined circles.
“So, when I was attacked in the forest—the day I first got here—those Mynds were mine.”
“Your fears. Your doubts…your anger.”
Keon frowned, leaning forward.
“When Dout had me by the throat, I saw something,” he said, blinking in thought. “Two men standing in a pillar of light…”
“Your father and his Mirror when they came to set you free.”
Keon’s brow deepened in pensive contemplation.
“That’s where my dad is now. Dout’s Stronghold. And it’s my doubts that have him captive.”
Wellworn shook his head.
“Not yours. His.”
“But I thought…”
“Like you, your father has a keen mind, but—just like you—he sometimes allows his feelings to distract him from his duties. He was sent, on my orders, to retrieve you, Keon. He deviated from that mission when he saw the state of your Mirror. Of your heart.”
“Clearly, it’s worse than we thought, and his judgement can’t be trusted.”
“He began to doubt my leadership. His Mirror took advantage of those doubts and used them to seize control—he made your father a prisoner of Dout himself.”
“So, how do I set him free? Am I supposed to defeat his doubts?”
“No Keon,” Wellworn shuffled closer. “The only thing I need you to do is exactly what I tell you.”
Keon flapped his arms in protest.
“How’s that gonna…”
Wellworn bent his brow at him.
He clamped his eyes and mouth shut, exhaling through his nostrils.
“You’re asking me to trust you.”
“I am asking you to trust me.”
Keon huffed a chuckle.
“I’ll try init.”
“Obedience and loyalty. That is all he asks,” he said, gently shaking his shoulder.
There was that phrase again.
Keon rose then suddenly exhaled, a pained expression clouding his face.
“Are you alright?” said Wellworn.
He shook his head, hands gripping his thighs.
“I…I think I need to go,” he said, squirming.
“Where are you going?”
Keon drew closer.
“I need…I need to go man!” he said through gritted teeth, motioning with his eyes.
“I see,” said Wellworn. “Just hold it. You will be fine.”
“You don’t understand man, I really need to go!…”
“I know. And I am telling you to hold it.”
“You’re not serious.”
He was serious.
“Wait. You did this on purpose…”
“To teach you a simple but profound truth. A large ship is driven by strong winds yet guided by a very small rudder—all according to the will of the pilot. The one who can control the smallest of his members…”
“Hey!”
“…can control all others. Your body wants you to do something. You are simply telling it not to. If you can say ‘no’ to this, you can say ‘no’ to anything.”
“Self-control,” Keon huffed, nodding his head vigorously. “So—how much longer do I need to do this?”
Wellworn smiled.
“Until I tell you not to.”
Keon wheezed, bending over with his hands on his knees.
Wellworn slapped his back.
“I have full confidence in you, Keon. Come,” he said, “there is much still to learn.”
I'm enjoying this. Keep up the good work.