Run: The Legend of Badjan Kholi - Chapter 1

Run: The Legend of Badjan Kholi

Part 1
Fathers of Kings

Chapter 1
Fueling Rage

Told from the viewpoint of Badjan Kholi

I walked brusquely through the market square, passing many people that quickly recognized me and greeted me formally, bowing low to the ground and even graciously thanking me for my recent deeds.  I ignored them all, for I was furious.  My dear brother the sultan didn’t seem to be as grateful for my deeds as of late, so much so that he had called me personally to his throne room for a meeting, an honor I hadn’t been graced with for weeks.

A wind whipped through my dark hair, channeled through the valley’s steep sides.  I was returning from the mouth of Alcedo’s entryway, a well fortified wall that spanned to either side of the abrupt ending of the cliffs above, constantly reminding me of my vast imprisonment.  The dusty red walls of rock reached up into the sky about 260 feet.  A dazzling feat of engineering and architecture ran up along the rock’s side to my right, something I often took for granted anymore, but once hadn’t.

Houses upon houses were built along the rock face, becoming perhaps the greatest display of man’s abilities in the entire kingdom.  It was a massive and colorful sight, the statistics I had been taught about it flooding into my mind from my years spent applying studies of how Alcedo was set up.  Still, it was only a small effort to keep my mind from my current situation as I stormed through the market at the bottom of the valley.  The merchants had up colorful signs alongside the decorated, wide stone roads, enticing buyers into their shops with colorful fabrics and wonderful aromas.  Some of these men bowed dramatically, calling out after me, “Prince Badjan!” I ignored them.

A short, young boy followed closely behind me, trying to catch up with my long strides. “You know Prince Badjan,” he said between heavy breaths, “the Sultan cannot do anything harsh to you for what you’ve done.  It is not as if you killed a man.  And even that would not merit such attention.” His heavy accent and high-pitched voice made him a very quaint boy.  He had been orphaned at a young age when the famine struck the city, and had been brought into the royal palace as a servant for myself shortly after.  Ranish was his name, and he looked up to me eagerly.

“We’ll see after today,” I growled, implying that my brother’s life was on the line.

It had been no more than ten months since Soewn’s inauguration.  I had barely slept in much of that time, unable to from the haunting feeling that followed me everywhere I went; Soewn was going to exact his revenge on me for all those years he looked down on me.  I was 20 now, a prince in his prime, and I refused to let Soewn treat me any way he liked.  On this day when he called me in to his throne room, it would finally end.  Either he would accept me once and for all, or I would fight him to my last breath.  With a grim smile I released a short, sarcastic laugh.  I did not plan on dying today.

The guards bowed curtly before me, enough to show that they still had some respect for the royal bloodline, but slightly less than all my other brothers to make it clear whom they served.  I considered turning around to reprimand them as I walked past, but a soft, velvety voice stopped me.

“Good morning, Prince Badjan.” Two servant girls stood on either side of the woman who had spoken to me.  She was young and tall, weighed down by heavy silk fabrics of royal color.  A thin circlet of gold sat on her brow, a sapphire gem hanging down from it between her eyes, which were poignant and dark, full of emotion.  And, proving she had the same heart of her former exciting self inside, several scrolls were tucked under her arm.  She was on her way to the study, as usual.  I shook my head in amused disapproval of my sister.

“Princess Annalia,” I greeted formally, as I had been brought up doing in the palace.  I gave her a half-hearted bow and a soft kiss on her extended hand, which gave off a refreshing scent of lavender. “You really shouldn’t be reading at a time like this.”

“A time like what, Badjan?” she tested, arching an eyebrow and smirking at me.  At just a year older than myself, she was the pride of the family, and I was just a curse.

I waved my hands in the air vaguely. “When Soewn detests me so and wishes for my head.” Annalia groaned softly and rolled her eyes in that poised manner.

“Badjan, you must learn to hold your tongue and tame your temper.  With all this talk of you being cursed reaching the commoners at last, people are beginning to doubt you.  You are in deep, dangerous waters.” I huffed through my nostrils.  I always wished to call out Annalia on that analogy, seeing as we were close enough to a desert to experience the occasional edges of a sandstorm.  We were nowhere near deep waters.  My sarcasm had never gone over well with her.  Besides, I was not cursed!  Those wretched lies really would be the death of me.

“You may say whatever you wish, my dear sister,” I mumbled very ungracefully. “Soewn must still face what he has done, not run from his actions like a coward.  Why, he has just-”

I was cut off by a quick snapping, clicking sound that I identified with a woman in a rush to be somewhere. “What do we have here?” came a voice that made me groan and wince.  It was a high-pitched squeal, loud and demanding. “Little Badjan?”

“I’m a man, a prince,” I growled.  The sultana was testing me.  She was said to be elegant and beautiful to the eyes of many, and, though I could see a hint of elegance, there was nothing attractive about Soewn’s wife to me in any way.  She looked down the bridge of her pointed nose at everyone, walked with a gait that looked forced; she had trained her entire life to simply walk like a queen.

“I always see the young Badjan in you,” she purred, simply trying to make me angry.  Even Annalia narrowed her eyes and could tell she was lying, the wicked woman.  She hated me almost more than Soewn did.
“Well if you’ll excuse me,” I muttered, trying to restrain my anger, “Sultan Kholi has requested an audience with me.” I pushed past the two women and down the long hallway.  Once I was alone I turned in confusion to find that Ranish had left me at some point in the fray.  Muttering darkly to myself that even the young boy who so dearly loved me was now gone, I thumped my palm against one of the large oak doors of Soewn’s throne room when neither alert guard made any move to do so for me.

“Badjan!” roared Soewn.

“My brother,” I spat sarcastically, not even bothering to walk toward him, since he went through the effort of coming down the grandly decorated room to me. “How is your health, Soewn?” I said, allowing a rumble of disapproval to follow my words.

“Believe you me, it will be in a much better state than yours in no time at all.  What were you thinking, appointing three generals from the lower ranks?” I scoffed in shock.  That was what this was all about? “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m speaking of.” He scratched at the beginnings of an unshaven beard and then ran his hand through his dark hair.  My jaw worked back and forth in anger, trying to find the words to lash back at him.

“I know exactly what you’re talking about, Soewn.  Cendis is the head of the army and he approved my decision!” At 29 and the second in the family line, Cendis had nearly more responsibility than Soewn.

“That’s not what he told me,” came a light, calm voice.  I had been so occupied staring Soewn down at only a foot apart, mere seconds from launching into a fistfight, that I had not heard nor seen Zhavi walk in.  He was five years older than me, the middle child of seven, and now as a man looked the most different out of all my siblings.  His hair was not very dark; it was brown and flowed in waves.  His eyes were green, and though both my sisters had green eyes, his were very bright.  He was the most level-headed of all of us brothers, but he was the quickest to pick a fight and involve himself in matters that did not concern him.

“Enlighten me, Prince Zhavi,” Soewn said, his voice suddenly morphing into one of stature, not the older, demeaning brother.  All the while he never stopped glaring at me with menace.

I saw Zhavi smile from his place only feet away.  He placed both hands on his hips, and couldn’t help but notice that one rested awkwardly, as if there was a weapon hidden beneath his shirt.  I noted this silently and instead focused on what he was saying.

“With pleasure, my Sultan.” I rolled my eyes. “Cendis has just told me early this morning that he allowed Badjan the chance to play army officer, that he didn’t expect the boy to actually make changes in his army.”

“He asked me for my opinion, and it is not his army!” I shot, deciding that enough was enough.  Every muscle in my body tensed at all the hate that had been directed at me.  Everyone else was treated like angels of God, and I was a peasant boy in their midst.  Soewn spat something about my being correct, that it was instead his army, while a familiar word crept up into my throat and mind, where it had been resting for years.  It whispered in my mind as I leapt forward, arms outstretched toward Zhavi. Unfair.

He was thin and lithe, and reacted very quickly to my expected attack.  Zhavi grabbed at my arm and at the same time drew his right hand down to his belt, where I knew there was the weapon.  I counteracted his defensive maneuver, spinning on my heel and reaching for the unknown weapon.  Zhavi didn’t imagine I knew it was there; that was apparent by the shocked look on his face when my fingers wrapped around a handle and pulled it free.

A dagger.  As soon as I got to glance at this new development, I felt hands grasping at my arms.  Soewn.  My eyes narrowed to slits and I recalled my earlier promise.  Either my brother would accept me, or I would fight to my last breath.

With a shout I spun, my hands ripping free, and slashed out with the blade.  Soewn cried out in pain and fell backwards.  Zhavi roared my name and grabbed my shoulders, but I didn’t care.  The dagger clattered to the marble floor, a trickle of blood running down the side.  My vision blurred and my hearing intensified as guards rushed to take hold of me and Annalia shouted something in the distance, though that must have been her wavering form, just a few feet away, hands clasped over her mouth in horror, scrolls abandoned on the floor.

I took one deep, long breath, and the world around me went dark.