hadn’t attacked when Asher was but a child.
Abon found that no matter how much time had passed, he couldn’t forget that night. The sounds of his home crumbling around him, the screams of his people as the Shaddoc killed without mercy. It had been the night that the life he knew and loved had come to an end, and he knew that no matter how long he lived, there wouldn’t be anything that could stop him from thinking about it and wishing that things could have ended differently.
The Nalyi had been set to prosper. They had been growing and building and making their lives better, and in the span of one night, all of it had come grinding to a halt.
Quite literally, in fact.
The Nalyi above all else were a peace loving people. They had people trained to fight, as every clan must when there were creatures like the Shaddoc prowling around, but they much preferred living in peace with each other and the other clans. Their land had been verdant and bright, the palace a testament to their skill at construction and art, gleaming in the light from the sun with spires that seemed to stretch on forever.
The halls were made from marble and ivory colored stone, polished wood and glass making windows and studding the walls. Other clans had flocked to their corner of Qantari, their home planet, to learn their ways and enjoy their land, but everything was different now.
Nothing was growing, nothing was thriving, and the palace lay in rubble, half of the walls broken down and demolished in the Shaddoc attack.
It made Abon sad to see it, and he paused when he reached the palace gates, pressing a hand over his heart and then to his lips, sparing a moment to mourn those who had been lost as well as the destruction of their lives.
But it wasn’t time to despair. Abon knew that the Nayli were a resilient race, and that with the arrival of their king, they would thrive once more.
First he had to check something, though.
He walked the halls, footsteps echoing on the scarred, dusty stone floor. Nothing had been moving here for too long, but Abon still kept his guard up. The Shaddoc raiders could be anywhere, lurking in case of his return, and his fingers tightened around the brilliant silver sword that he had brought with him.
If he got killed before he completed his mission, he was going to be very upset.
The door to the tunnels was shut tight, just as it was supposed to be, but there was enough authority in Abon’s touch that it opened for him easily. For a moment, he wondered if he had been wrong. The Nalyi palace was meant to respond to the hand of the king and no one else, and if he’d been right, then he wasn’t the king anymore. He supposed he’d find out once he moved further in.
The air in the tunnels was dank and stale, but that wasn’t a problem for the people who had been living down there for the last several years.
Spread out before him in the winding tunnels under the Nalyi palace were his people. No one stirred as he moved among them, and Abon smiled.
So it was true. He’d always believed in the legends, and the one that said that when the king left in times of trouble, his people would sleep until his return seemed to be true. Because there they all were.
Hundreds of Nalyi, sitting or laying on the ground, eyes closed and bodies still in an enchanted slumber that would only be broken once the true king returned.
The sleep kept them preserved exactly as they had been, and it was hard to see that they were all so young still, so untouched by time, while he was older than he’d been when he’d fled and sure that it showed.
A bright flash of brilliant red hair caught his attention and his breath, and he moved towards the still figure.
His sister. Just as beautiful as she had been the day he’d left with her son. She was leaned against the sloping wall of the tunnel, her hair wild around her face and shoulders. Carefully, Abon stepped over a sleeping child to get to her, crouching down and touching her face with
Abon found that no matter how much time had passed, he couldn’t forget that night. The sounds of his home crumbling around him, the screams of his people as the Shaddoc killed without mercy. It had been the night that the life he knew and loved had come to an end, and he knew that no matter how long he lived, there wouldn’t be anything that could stop him from thinking about it and wishing that things could have ended differently.
The Nalyi had been set to prosper. They had been growing and building and making their lives better, and in the span of one night, all of it had come grinding to a halt.
Quite literally, in fact.
The Nalyi above all else were a peace loving people. They had people trained to fight, as every clan must when there were creatures like the Shaddoc prowling around, but they much preferred living in peace with each other and the other clans. Their land had been verdant and bright, the palace a testament to their skill at construction and art, gleaming in the light from the sun with spires that seemed to stretch on forever.
The halls were made from marble and ivory colored stone, polished wood and glass making windows and studding the walls. Other clans had flocked to their corner of Qantari, their home planet, to learn their ways and enjoy their land, but everything was different now.
Nothing was growing, nothing was thriving, and the palace lay in rubble, half of the walls broken down and demolished in the Shaddoc attack.
It made Abon sad to see it, and he paused when he reached the palace gates, pressing a hand over his heart and then to his lips, sparing a moment to mourn those who had been lost as well as the destruction of their lives.
But it wasn’t time to despair. Abon knew that the Nayli were a resilient race, and that with the arrival of their king, they would thrive once more.
First he had to check something, though.
He walked the halls, footsteps echoing on the scarred, dusty stone floor. Nothing had been moving here for too long, but Abon still kept his guard up. The Shaddoc raiders could be anywhere, lurking in case of his return, and his fingers tightened around the brilliant silver sword that he had brought with him.
If he got killed before he completed his mission, he was going to be very upset.
The door to the tunnels was shut tight, just as it was supposed to be, but there was enough authority in Abon’s touch that it opened for him easily. For a moment, he wondered if he had been wrong. The Nalyi palace was meant to respond to the hand of the king and no one else, and if he’d been right, then he wasn’t the king anymore. He supposed he’d find out once he moved further in.
The air in the tunnels was dank and stale, but that wasn’t a problem for the people who had been living down there for the last several years.
Spread out before him in the winding tunnels under the Nalyi palace were his people. No one stirred as he moved among them, and Abon smiled.
So it was true. He’d always believed in the legends, and the one that said that when the king left in times of trouble, his people would sleep until his return seemed to be true. Because there they all were.
Hundreds of Nalyi, sitting or laying on the ground, eyes closed and bodies still in an enchanted slumber that would only be broken once the true king returned.
The sleep kept them preserved exactly as they had been, and it was hard to see that they were all so young still, so untouched by time, while he was older than he’d been when he’d fled and sure that it showed.
A bright flash of brilliant red hair caught his attention and his breath, and he moved towards the still figure.
His sister. Just as beautiful as she had been the day he’d left with her son. She was leaned against the sloping wall of the tunnel, her hair wild around her face and shoulders. Carefully, Abon stepped over a sleeping child to get to her, crouching down and touching her face with
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