Fealty & Feast
Underland and the Forehidden Kingdom, Chapter 32
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: Aslan returns to Midnah-Dogu, disgraced and empty handed. Stripped of his rank as Kaptan of the Walls, it seems as though he is without direction until he is summoned personally by the Mysts to the Bedesten. There, in exchange for a piece of information, he receives word that Asya’s Mirror has been spotted in the wilds of New Hame, Loegria. Gathering what remains of the Eight, he plans to defy his father once more and retrieve his wayward sister. Meanwhile, Keon and his companions are still reeling from Zahara’s betrayal.
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Keon sat apart, his face emotionless. He stared down at Zahara’s torn insignia nestled between his fingers and thumbed the embroidery. The threads of flame that once burned at the lamp’s tip had unravelled and come away. No longer did the strands glisten and dance in the light as he turned the insignia over. To his right, the stone seat lay empty. He couldn’t even bring himself to glance at it. How had so much changed in the space of an hour?
Keon’s gaze followed Avana as she milled about. He wasn’t sure whether she was still rattled by Zahara or something else was bothering her, but it was like she didn’t know where to look. She was avoiding everything, almost tripping over herself. Obviously, she had a bit of a temper, but she’d never completely lost it like that either. It wasn’t like her to be so distracted.
Kai, Dawit and Shem were working to set the table aright, overturned during the heat of battle. It must’ve been heavy judging by the strains contorting Kai and Dawit’s faces, but Shem had this stupid grin plastered across his. Of all the times. As for Jonas—Mr Bleeding Kersey—now that that cat was out of the bag, he wouldn’t stop talking. Even beneath her hood, you could see Asya’s ears burning from overuse.
Keon blinked as a shadow loomed over him. Turning to look, a hand shielding his eyes, he found Wellworn, the light from Zaphon bathing him in a halo of light. Somehow, he was able to exhibit immovable strength even amidst the heaviness of loss. Keon wasn’t sure whether that amazed or frightened him. Either way, it gave Wellworn an air of human otherworldliness.
“May I sit?” Wellworn said, gesturing to the empty stone seat.
Keon licked his dry lips and shrugged.
“If I said no, would you sit anyway?”
Wellworn swung his leg over the stone and planted himself down.
“I guess you will never know,” he said with a smile. He put a heavy hand on Keon’s shoulder and gently squeezed it. “Are you alright?”
Keon sniffed and wiped his nose.
“Thought you’d know that already.”
Wellworn cocked his head to the side.
“That is not how this works.”
Keon stared ahead, his eyes glistening like polished billiard balls.
“I don’t know what I’m doin’ here,” he breathed.
Wellworn stared at him, waiting, his eyes narrowed. Surely, he knew what Keon was about to say anyway. When it was clear he wasn’t going to relent, Keon continued.
“The only reason I went with the Millionth and Fifth was ‘cause of Zahara, and now she ain’t even…” his words trailed off, extending a hand to the horizon then letting it drop. “Y’know she saved me—from one of my Mynds—drove a spear right through its chest. I couldn’t believe it when I saw her,” he said, chuckling at the thought. He shook his head, eyes falling to his knees. “I thought I was dreamin’.”
He sniffed, picked up a stray shard of stone and dashed it.
“She’s the one who told me to trust you, y’know. Even when I ran off into the forest, she stuck her neck out for you.” He bounced his feet on the fronts of his toes, weighing his next words. “Kai told me about her gift. Said she could make you feel so comfortable, you’d see only what you wanted to see. So, like…how do I even know what’s real anymore?”
“Well, tell me, Keon…why did you stay?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“My dad, init. I thought—with what you told me about this place—I thought I could bring him home.”
“And now?”
Keon’s gaze grew long, his eyes searching.
“That’s not why you brought me here,” he said, swallowing. “He wasn’t captured ‘cause he’s sick…” he turned, looking up into Wellworn’s scar ridden face. “He was captured ‘cause he started to doubt you. And he started to doubt you ‘cause of me.”
Again, he ran his thumb over the gentle fibres of Zahara’s emblem.
“Is this my fault too?” he said, biting his quivering lip as his voice croaked. “Like…if I hadn’t told her about my dad…”
The tears peeled over his eyelids, and he jammed them tight to shut them in. Wellworn drew nearer, put his arm around Keon and pulled him close. Keon’s grimace hit the delicate fur of Wellworn’s hood. It muffled whatever sounds his throat was choking out. He felt Wellworn’s palm enclose his head, gentle and warm. For a moment, nothing was spoken. He just allowed Keon to be.
“Do you think the King would have brought you here just to drive Zahara away?” Wellworn said, his voice small.
Keon’s entire body shuddered with sorrow.
“Neither is your coming here what led your father to doubt me…”
“But ‘m r’spons’ble…” Keon murmured; his voice muffled by a mouthful of fur.
Wellworn pulled him away and held him by the shoulders.
“Keon, the King summoned you to save your father. What is it you are saving him from?”
Keon swallowed in thought.
“His doubts…”
“Your father loves you, Keon, and love is a gift. But mixed with fear or anger, it can lead to compromise. In compromise it is easy for one to lose their way. Do you know what ailed him? The question that burned in his heart?”
Keon thought back to the hospital. To their fight about the fight. Dad’s words had stung him then. No, more than stung. They’d gnawed at something deep within the well of his soul. A deep, relentless fear.
“Is Keon gonna be ok?” he whispered, his eyes roaming the air.
Wellworn’s brow bunched together as he leaned in closer.
“And are you, Keon?”
Keon blinked, sniffed, then wiped his face clean from nose to wet cheeks. He slid off the stone and stood, walking towards the break in the trees. There, one could look out over the Eastern Monument, the city of Ir-Salem stretched out beneath them. Its limestone walls simmering with the warmth of daylight. He glanced over the streets, filled with Torchbearers walking to and fro. Some were feasting, some were sparring. All of them moved with purpose.
“Am I ready?” he said, sniffling the last of his tears. “To go get him. Am I ready?”
Wellworn smiled, almost to himself, then pointed to the scabbard attached to Keon’s belt.
“That blade can act as a key to unlock many a Stronghold. Do you know where its strength lies?”
Keon ripped the short sword out of its sheath and held it up. He marvelled again at the words dancing and shifting deep beneath its silver surface. Looking back at Wellworn, he shook his head.
“In Truth...speak it always and it will ever set captives free.”
Keon huffed a chuckle, turning the blade over in awe.
“You said I wasn’t ready for the truth before.”
“Well,” he smiled, “It belongs to you now.”
Keon sheathed the sword with one swift jab.
“So, when do we do this?” he said.
Wellworn leaned his hands on his knees, his broad back bending, and rose.
“First, we feast.”
Food had been the last thing on Keon’s mind, yet somehow it felt right. Obviously, there was no need to set the table this time. His eyes roamed across its surface as he approached, running his hand over the smooth, lacquered wood. Like the Throne, it hadn’t been forged, but lovingly crafted. Long benches encircled it. At his beckoning, Asya had taken a seat at Wellworn’s right hand, resisting her pleas to assist with the food. Jonas sat opposite. As Keon took his seat next to Asya, he turned to Kai, then Shem (who sat opposite Wellworn, fingers clasped in thought), and finally Dawit. They nodded one by one, then all eyes turned as the scents wafted over the air.
Avana laid the steaming, golden bread at the centre of the table. Returning a moment later, she placed bowls of fruit on either side. Kai’s eyes lit up in glee as he started chewing air in anticipation. Next, Avana brought two corked, wooden bottles and placed them north and south of the bread. Wellworn returned to the make-shift stove and rolled a stone away from the oven opening, a plume of seasoned aromas billowing into the air. Keon sniffed; his nose upraised.
“Is that...is that meat?” he exclaimed.
Wellworn laid the platter down on the table to exultant gasps.
“Yo-ho-ho!” said Kai.
Laid out on the platter was a lattice of skewered meats, tinged with mint and spices; brown and dripping with oil. On one side rose a pile of golden grains, possibly bulgur wheat. Opposite that, a mountain of moist salads was accompanied by multiple dips in small wooden bowls.
Shem rose from his seat, leaning over the table for a better look.
“Where th’heck did you get all that?” he gasped.
Wellworn turned to him and raised an eyebrow.
“Really?” he said.
Shem set himself back down with an awkward, sheepish grin.
Avana made a circuit around the table, filling their wooden cups with crimson liquid. Keon chuckled as Asya lifted the cup, raised it to her nose, and held it afar. Clearly, she’d never let a drop pass her lips before. Her part done, Avana pushed between Jonas and Dawit, shooing Dawit further down the bench. Was she avoiding Shem again?
Wellworn wiped his hands with a cloth, set himself down and surveyed the table with a beaming smile. Reaching for a loaf of bread, he lifted it, broke it in two and distributed the pieces around the table. Keon received it from Asya with a smile, broke off a portion and passed it to Kai. For a moment, Wellworn didn’t make a move, his fingers rapping the table in thought.
“My friends…I know your hearts may be troubled. At times like this, it is easy to forget that there is a Throne in Zaphon and one who sits upon it. You may feel lost…you may feel weakened…you may feel betrayed…but fear not. You trust in me. Trust also in the King. This meal we share is more than just a feast. It is a declaration. A trumpet blast from the deepest valleys of the Lowlands to the Far Reaches of the North…it is a declaration that I am here, and that the Throne sits neither idle, nor empty. So, as we eat together, remember this…”
“Obedience and loyalty,” said Keon, looking to his cup, then to Wellworn. “That’s all you ask.”
Wellworn smiled.
“Well said, Master Wesley.”
Clasping his hand around his cup, Wellworn raised it to the air, and with a voice as firm as the dawning sun, said—
“To the King…”
“TO THE KING!”
Asya gnawed at her lip, tipping the cup towards her, then held it aloft.
“To the King,” she said.
“Til’ the Eighth Day dawns!” added Wellworn.
“TIL’ THE EIGHTH DAY DAWNS!”
Walnut cups knocked together; their loss suddenly washed away in the splatter of blood-red droplets. Through the forest of outstretched arms, Keon glanced at Wellworn who raised his cup and set it back down on the table. With a grin, Keon knocked his one back, coughed and wiped his mouth.
“How come you never told us about your dad, mate?” said Shem, laid out on the grass, snapping parts of a twig before tossing the pieces into their glowing campfire.
The rest of the Millionth and Fifth sat huddled around the flames, the world around them swallowed by the night. Asya hugging her knees next to Keon. Jonas stood afar off; arms folded, finally silent. Dawit sat hunched over on a stone stool, his arms hanging between his knees.
“I mean, it’s not the kind of thing you wanna talk about init?” Keon shrugged, staring into the flames. “Especially with people you just met.”
Shem nodded, silent, peeling the bark off a fresh twig.
“I guess that’s fair,” he murmured.
“I’m sorry about your father,” said Avana, the fire dancing in her big, brown eyes. “And I’m sorry I was hard on you.”
All eyes turned to her, wide as the moon.
“Oh, shut up,” she said, wrapping herself tighter in her shawl.
“You weren’t wrong though,” Keon replied. “I was an idiot.”
“We all make mistakes,” she whispered. “You didn’t need me to punish you for them.”
Kai raised an eyebrow.
“No kidding, we can make mistakes now?”
“I said shut up, or so help me!” she seethed.
His shoulders rocked with silent laughter.
“I don’t think that’s what it is,” said Asya, interjecting. “What you said, Keon, about not telling anyone.”
Keon turned to her.
“How do you mean?”
She shrugged a solitary shoulder.
“There was this Torchbearer tale I heard once,” she continued, “about the Prince and the Musician. The prince’s father, a powerful ruler, had been told he would lose his throne…that it would be given to another. So, the prince’s inheritance, his birth right, was at stake. Then, along came this dragon, challenging the ruler’s armies. No one was willing to fight it. Not the ruler, not the prince. Nobody. Nobody except this young musician. They say he forged from a songbook and slew the dragon with music. What nobody knew was, this musician was the one chosen to succeed the ruler. But the prince was drawn to him. He didn’t see a threat, or a rival. He saw kinship. So, he removed his armour, took off his royal robes and gave them to the musician. He vowed to be his brother ‘til his dying breath.”
“What’s your point?” said Kai, confused.
“If the musician wanted, he could’ve killed the prince, his main rival to the throne. The prince made himself vulnerable as an act of friendship. Sometimes the way to grow close to people, to trust them, is to make yourself vulnerable. Friendship’s a risk…so, I reckon the reason you didn’t tell us, Keon, was because it was a risk you weren’t ready to take.”
She looked up at the eyes of the Millionth and Fifth, all zoned in on her.
“But it’s worth it, right?” she asked, glancing around. “Even if it hurts. Even if it costs you everything. It’s worth it in the end.”
Keon stared into the flames, uncertain as to the source of the warmth burning in his heart.
“Yeah,” he said, turning to her. “It’s worth it.”
He smiled, nodding at her in pride. This was probably the first genuine reason he’d had to smile all day.
“What is it?” she frowned.
“Nothin’ it’s just…that was such a Torchbearer thing to do,” he turned his eyes back to the campfire. “We teach each other. We share. Everyone has something to offer…and when we bring it all to the table, everyone grows.”
Her grey eyes roamed his face, then she reached out and rubbed his back.
“Alright,” said Shem, sitting up and reaching beneath his shawl. He extracted his flask, flipping it open. For a moment he stared into its contents then took a swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and sat silent, all eyes on him. “I’m afraid of fish.”
He snapped it shut then tossed it to Kai, who almost didn’t catch it.
“Wait! WHAT?!” he said.
“I’m taking a risk, init,” said Shem with a shrug. “No more secrets. Your turn.”
“But fish bro?!”
“Have you seen their eyes, mate?! Flippin’ freaky!”
“Flippin’…” Keon chuckled to himself.
Dawit almost rolled off his seat, clutching his belly. Avana audibly cackled behind her hand.
“Alright,” said Kai. He blew out a breath and scratched his forehead. “I don’t like Chinese food…”
“NOOOO!” said Keon.
“There’s a food you don’t like, brother?” added Dawit.
“How does that even work?” said Jonas.
“I-I-I don’t hate it! Just…when you eat it, see it, smell it—day in, day out—you get a bit tired man!”
“Honestly, I would love that!” said Asya.
“Yeah, ‘cause your house ain’t above a Chinese takeaway,” said Kai. He knocked the flask back then chucked it to Dawit. It bounced off his upper arm, still shaking from rollicking laughter.
Dawit swiped tears of merriment from each eye with his thumb then retrieved the flask. He stared into the contents, his wide smile stretching his cheeks from ear to ear.
“I have a girl back in Eritrea…I think I’m gonna marry her.”
Asya placed a hand to her chest.
“Bro, that ain’t even embarrassing. That’s just sweet,” said Kai.
Dawit shrugged, still staring at the flask.
“I don’t know… for the first time in my life, I can’t think of anything I’m ashamed of.”
“A’richt, give it ‘ere,” said Jonas, beckoning with his hand and coming to take a seat beside Kai.
Dawit tossed it and he caught it with one hand without even looking. Keon shook his head in wonder. How was this the same guy?
“Ah mean, mah biggest secret’s oot the poke,” he said, feet tapping. Chuckles reverberated through the group. “But ye lot are mah biggest weakness. Ah dunno whit a’d do if something happened t’ye. What I do know is ahm better fur all o’ye.”
“Cheers to that,” said Shem, nodding.
All eyes turned to Avana. She huffed, rolled her own then held out her hand.
“Fine.”
Jonas tossed it underarm to her. She clasped it in both hands, fingers drumming the sides.
“It has come to my attention that I may not say or express this enough. And, as you may have noticed, it’s something I feel quite strongly about,” she swallowed, unable to raise her eyes. “But I consider you all family…and I’d give everything I have to protect you. All of you. To my dying breath.”
She looked around at each of them in turn, eyes wide as two copper coins.
“But don’t anyone else dare betray us. I swear to the King!” she said, shaking her head.
She hoisted the flask, downing a gulp.
Asya reached for it and Avana gladly passed it on.
“For a while I’ve felt like I never truly thought all this through,” she said. “Leaving Midnah-Dogu, coming to the Eastern Monument. Funny thing is, I always accused my brother of being the one who didn’t think. Truth is, he’s the smartest guy I know. He over thinks. It’s a weakness and a strength…I’ve always been reckless. And my recklessness has always got him into trouble. But this time, I’m gonna make sure it pays off. I’m not gonna let him down. Any of them. I may not have thought it through, but I’m sure I’ve done the right thing.”
“Hey,” said Kai, “doing it by accident’s kinda what we do here.”
She smiled, put the flask to her lips and sipped. Turning to Keon, she held it out. He received it, looked down into its contents, then lifted his eyes to the group. A deep inhale filled his chest, and he huffed it out.
“Ok…” He raised the flash to his lips. “I have an…”
“Come!” said Wellworn suddenly, emerging from the dark. “It is time.”
The Millionth and Fifth eyed each other, then everyone scrambled to their feet to follow him as he retreated beyond the glow of the flames.
Keon stared overhead at the nebulae blossoming beneath the overhanging ocean, stars dancing between their billows. If his time in Underland was drawing near an end, he wasn’t ready to let go of the sky yet. They trumped through the rainforest, Wellworn’s path leading them in a winding descent. After a moment, the canopy blocked most of the sky, shafts of multihued light piercing between the trees like heavenly staircases. As they continued, a hiss of rushing waters ricocheted through the trees, rising to a roaring crescendo the closer they drew to their presumed destination.
Sure enough, they eventually broke through the trees and stood at the edge of a deep basin of rock, a stream of white waters pouring over the edge into a glistening lake below. A grassy outcrop lay behind the waterfall, halfway down between the forest and the basin, connecting to a path that wound its way up to where they stood.
“This place is giving me serious ‘Window of the West vibes,’” said Keon.
The others turned to him, shared frowns of befuddlement arching their brows.
“Lord of the…never mind,” he muttered.
“That is not far from the truth,” said Wellworn with a smile. “Come.”
They followed Wellworn down to the outcrop. There, the waters fell like a giant pane of rippling glass. Wellworn came to a stop before it, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Tonight, your quest begins. Your mission is to return to Loegria and retrieve Keon’s father.”
“Loegria?” Keon whispered to Shem.
“London, mate.”
“Keon,” Wellworn said, causing him to look up. “I believe you have valuable information concerning your father’s whereabouts. Please, share it with the rest of the battalion.”
“Uh,” Keon went to speak, and Wellworn motioned with a sweep of his arm for Keon to join him. He reluctantly stepped out, coming to stand beside the Scarred Warrior. “Ok, so…Underland and Earth share parallel geography, right? So, my guess is…I believe…y’know what, it’s easier if I show you.”
He flipped open his Codex, flicking through Memories until he found what he was looking for: the double-page spread of when he first met Zahara. He turned the book around, held it up, and signalled to the top left corner where an image broke through the pillars of text.
“Ok, so, ignore the rest,” he said, sheepish. He tapped his finger on a sketch of Victōria Londinium: A Visual Guide to Old London, open to the page he was showing Zahara in the school library. There was the painting of rolling hills before a large stretch of forest. “This is an eighteenth-century painting of Newham. Back then, of course, it wasn’t called that. The whole area was called Hamme. Anyway, Underland’s geography is laid out as though man never touched it, yeah? When I arrived in Underland, I was near this river not far from my house. Back home, there’s a bridge and a park. Here, it’s just land. So, this place,” he said, tapping the picture again. “This is where Newham Hospital is now. And Dout has my dad. Where better to build your Stronghold than a place of sadness and despair?”
Dawit and Kai exchanged glances, nodding in shared ‘not bads.’
“It always felt like the gloom and misery there was like…like something you could touch. I thought it was just me, but now I know. What I felt was real. That’s what has my dad. So, I’m guessing we’ll need to fight our way through to get him out.”
“Right you are,” said Wellworn, “which is why you will be Field Leader for this mission.”
“Wait, what?!” he said, whirling around.
Wellworn looked down on him with a smile that was far from reassuring.
“Just remember all you have been taught.”
“You’re not serious!”
“I am.”
“Nah, but…I don’t even…I can’t even Forge fast! I was just getting started! How do you expect me to lead a mission?”
Wellworn placed a hand on his shoulder, and it was as though all doubt drained away. A calm descended on his shoulders like a cloak. He breathed in and out, staring into those crooked, coffee-black eyes.
“The point of being a leader is not to be the greatest…or the strongest. It is to go and have others follow,” Wellworn said, turning him to face the others. “If you go, they will follow; and if you go, I will be with you.”
Keon glanced up at him.
“I can do whatever you tell me to do,” he said.
“Precisely.”
“Then I want Dawit to help me,” said Keon.
“Wait what?” Dawit said, his head shooting up.
“Delegated authority, right? He didn’t tell me how to lead. Just to lead. And I want you to help me.”
Dawit took a step forward, blinking in disbelief.
“Brother, I…”
“I trust you,” said Keon. “Do you trust me?”
Dawit stomped forward, clasped Keon’s hand and pulled him into a hug, slapping his back.
“I’ve got you!” he said.
“So, when do we leave?” said Keon, turning to face Wellworn.
“Now,” he nodded.
“How long’s that gonna take? It took us like a month to get here,” Keon said, flapping his arms.
Wellworn approached the waterfall, arms folded behind his back. He stopped a few feet from the cascading waters and motioned towards them.
“You will use my Mirror.”
Keon arched his head forward as if to get a better look, walking towards the waters. Narrowing his eyes, he began to perceive Wellworn’s reflection deep within the waters. It wasn’t like any Mirror he’d ever seen. Gone were the piercing, glowing irises. There wasn’t a hint of darkness, but rather light, peace and warmth—just like Wellworn, just like the Scribe.
“Are you serious?”
That beaming smile returned to Wellworn’s face.
“I am anywhere and everywhere I need to be. As such, my Mirror can serve as a portal to any location in Underland. Almost like…a window.”
Keon looked up at him, grinning in awe.
“That’s mad,” he breathed. “So, what do we do?”
“You just walk through it,” Wellworn replied.
Keon glanced over the edge of the outcrop, painfully aware of the two-foot gap between it and the waters. He huffed a chuckle and reoriented himself.
“Your destination is New Hame, Loegria. Do not be afraid. Go in the strength that you have. And watch one another’s backs,” Wellworn bellowed.
Keon steeled himself with a deep breath and stepped out into the open. His feet found solid air and he walked through the waters.