Kingdom of Gold

PART ONE

-CHAPTER ONE-
Once upon a time there was an evil king, who ruled the world. No man could oppose him, for the king had powers beyond that of any king, magician, or wizard. This evil king ruled for one hundred years, and no man could defeat him. Any man known to have powers was killed, and his wife and children were sent to a far away land. After many years, the kingdom of the evil king was only dwelt in by peasants and beggars. Riots broke out in the land. Death became well known to every citizen. The king's soldiers did nothing. They would only protect the city as they had been ordered. The king cared little about his kingdom. Only his power did he love.

-CHAPTER TWO-
After the king had been ruling for eighty years,
a son was born to the magician, Hosea. Hosea had been the former king's nephew. When the evil king made the decree that all men with powers be killed, Hosea tried to flee. He was caught, but his wife and child escaped. They ran for the land of Midian, the only safe haven in the country. Long had Midian passed over the iron rod of the king. It was a land of caves, and cliffs, and deadly rivers. The king cared little for such a place. In Midian there was a small village. Kushoth was it's name. Less than four hundred dwelled in this village, for so few had escaped the clutches of the king. It was in this land that Hosea's son, Malachi, was raised. Rebecca, Malachi's mother, did her best to raise her son with only the knowledge of peace. She never spoke of the boy's father, or of the evil king, or of any other land at all. And as the boy turned into a man, he was quite happy with his life, and his happiness had brought about a new beginning for Rebecca. Malachi had taken a fancy to Frieda, the daughter of Samuel. She too had been smuggled out of the kingdom at the death of her father. The two had become the greatest of friends, and were under the mutual agreement that upon Malachi's twentieth birthday, they would be married. In those days, a man was always married upon twenty years.

-CHAPTER THREE-
Everything changed the night before Malachi's birthday. He was sleeping upon the highest point in Midian. It was said that great wisdom was to be found at this place, and it had become tradition for a man to stay here the night before his wedding, to see what wisdom was to be granted him for his life. Malachi sat upon the rock looking across his homeland. He watched the sun set and the moons rise. He watched the stars grow brighter and the fires from the village go out. And then sleep took him. Malachi was awakened just before the rising of the red sun. Or perhaps he was. It could have been only a dream or a vision. He did not know. But whether of the eyes or of the mind, Malachi saw a very great sight. He saw his body lifted up to the clouds above. There he saw a man, a king. The king was sad, tears flooding his weary, red eyes. The king spoke, but Malachi could hear no words. After he was finished, the king took two fingers from his right hand, and buried them deep into the sockets of his eyes. Malachi cringed but could not blink. The king pulled out both eyes at the same time, and placed them in his left hand. He then reached with the same two fingers for Malachi's eyes. Malachi tried to raise his arms to protect himself, but he could not. He felt the cold fingers sliding beneath the bottom of his eyes, and slither up the backside. To his astonishment, he felt no pain. And then his world went black. When his sight returned, the king still stood before him. The king now had his eyes, and by the king's empty left hand, Malachi knew he must have the king's. Now the king spoke again, but this time Malachi heard the words.
"Look to the west." He said, pointing to Malachi's right.
Malachi turned, and looked westward. His body did not move from the spot, but his gaze began to fly. Over the cliffs and through the caves, past the river, over a mountain; until at last hovering over a kingdom.
"What is this place?" Malachi asked.
"This was your home," the king replied.
Malachi blinked, and everything happened at once. He saw a man, tall and mighty running into a small hut. He took his wife's hand and led her quickly outside. The woman held a baby in her hands, a son. The three mounted a great white horse, a horse Malachi knew well. The three rode for miles, followed by twenty soldiers. The soldiers were not far from the family when the man leapt off the horse and ran to the soldiers. The woman did not stop riding toward the hills.
"Why do you show me this?" Malachi asked the king.
"Do you not know?" came the reply.
"I am the child."
"Yes. Keep watching."
Malachi blinked, and when he opened his eyes he was in a palace. He saw a great silver throne, upon which sat a tall, fat man in fine robes and golden crown. The king pointed to his left. Malachi looked in that direction and saw men being slaughtered by the thousands. The king pointed to the right. Malachi looked and saw mother's and children screaming, fleeing; forced to a strange land. Slowly, the sight of Malachi began to wane. He soared outside the palace and saw thousands of soldiers standing guard. He flew farther and saw a city full of blood and death. Soaring yet farther he saw smoke rising from a city of ashes. And at last, he was back in the clouds facing the king who had showed him these things.
"Who are you?" Malachi inquired.
"I am Obadiah, the former king of this land, and I have seen my people suffer far too long."
"You wish something from me." Malachi declared.
"Yes. You, Malachi, will restore peace and freedom to my people.
"How?"
"Your father was powerful; very powerful. He only did not have the power to defeat the king. You are the son of a magician, Malachi, and therefore you are powerful. And so, when you were born, Hosea granted to you all his power. The king is no match for both you and your father’s power."
"Why was I never told this?"
The king smiled.
"Open up your eyes."

-CHAPTER FOUR-
The next thing Malachi saw was the rising of the red sun. He looked above. The blue sun was already high. Malachi stood and looked all around. The king was nowhere. The king. The city. Father. Death. Magic. Magic. Magician. Malachi would have laughed the dream off if it had not been so real. He began to raise his right arm slightly, scoffed at himself, and put it back at his side. But curiosity took the young man, and once again he raised his arm, the tips of his fingers pointed toward a large stone. Malachi let out a long sigh, and his arm shook nearly uncontrollably. And then he lifted.

-CHAPTER FIVE-
Frieda's head was buried in Malachi's chest, whose arms were around her.
"I don't understand," she said.
"Neither do I." He answered.
"We are supposed to be married today."
"I know. I know. But we waited twenty years, can't we wait another day?" Malachi asked.
"I'd wait an eternity for you Malachi, but waiting won't help me if your dead."
Malachi released his embrace and lifted Frieda's chin, her eyes meeting his own.
"I will not die."

-CHAPTER SIX-
No great army marched into the city that day. No small band of rebels. Not even a man and his best friend. Only one young man marched to the southern gates.
"Halt!" ordered the first soldier to see the hooded man.
Malachi raised his hand, and the soldier flew off the watch tower. The second soldier quickly followed. A moment later, the gate exploded into a pile of dust, which flowed inward to the city. A warning bell began to ring, which echoed throughout the city. Twenty minutes later, when Malachi was well into the city, arrows began to rain down from the sky. But before the arrows struck Malachi, they suddenly changed directions, falling upon the archers. Malachi made his way through the city, killing any man he chose with the simple raising of a finger.
At last, he came upon the castle. A thousand soldiers were there to meet him. And then, they were no longer there at all. Malachi was about to head for the door of the castle, when he heard a laugh from within. Soon after came the fat king he had seen in his dream. He had a bright smile on his face, and was clapping his hands in approval.
"Bravo! Bravo!"
"I am going to kill you last." said Malachi.
The king smiled, his clapping having ceased.
"Yes well, before that. I would like to offer a bargain."
"I will accept no bargain." declared Malachi."
"Of course not. Of course not. But do you really want to kill me Malachi?"
Malachi took a step back. How did he know his name? The king laughed.
"You underestimate me young man. When you came, did you not expect to find a man more powerful than you? I know everything. Everything. I know about your father. Your mother. Frieda. Oh yes. I know about her. She will die of course."
"No!"
"No? Than I suggest you hear my bargain." the king gritted between his teeth.
"Supposing I was interested?"
"Join me. Think of what we could do."
Malachi laughed now.
"You don't waste any time."
The king nodded. "There's none to waste."
"Then I will not waste yours." said Malachi. "I do not accept."
What happened next may not be what you had expected. With all his might, the evil king reigned down every curse and spell known to man upon this one Malachi. Malachi simply lifted one arm, defending each blow with ease. At last the king stopped, a stupefied look on his face.
Malachi smiled. "My turn."
He raised his arm to the king, and instantly the king fell to the ground. He began to writhe in pain, twisting this way and that. Slowly his body began to shrink, his legs and arms and head being forced into his body. The king screamed for mercy, but Malachi would offer none. As quickly as it had started, it was over. The evil king had been destroyed. A new king had taken his place.

PART TWO
-CHAPTER ONE-
And so a new man became king over the city. But in the moment that Malachi killed the king, something happened that he did not expect. The very moment, the evil king had been smitten, a curse was cast upon Malachi. Against his will he was pulled into the castle. And as Malachi entered through the doors of the castle, he felt his very soul being ripped from him. One cannot describe the agony that one feels when his soul is torn away. It is not the kind of pain that a blade brings when it drives through the heart. It is so much worse. I can speak no more of it. Malachi tried to stop the curse, but not even his powers were enough, for no earthly power can put a stopper to a curse. And so, as Malachi passed through the doors, he gave up his very soul.

-CHAPTER TWO-
Malachi would not sit in the throne of the king. He could not. So much evil had been ordered from that seat. For weeks the king sat in his new castle, weeping. He cried out like a wolf to the full moon. This was not supposed to happen. This is not what Obadiah had promised. At last, the king rose from his pitiful state.
"Send for the outcasts," he said. "It is time for them to come home."
And so, every village to which the evil king had sent the families of power, was emptied of his hostages. Every woman and child was returned to their homeland, Frieda and Malachi's mother included. Both ran immediately to the castle upon arriving to the city, but Malachi would only see Rebecca. He told her off all that had happened, and together they wept until the setting of the red sun. And sending his mother out, Malachi said,
"Please tell Frieda the things I have told you. Tell her that I am sorry. But send her back to the city, for I cannot look upon her."
Rebecca nodded, and turned to walk away.
"And Mother. Tell her that I am sorry."

-CHAPTER THREE-
Years passed, and the land changed much. Malachi was a good king. He did much for his people. The city was rebuilt, and what once was a disgrace, was now the greatest city in the world. Twelve towers surrounded the city, each as tall as the castle. Homes were restored; no man, woman, or child was without. To the poor, Malachi granted riches; to the hungry he gave bread; and to the sick, he provided care. The land was remade, and the people praised the king for what he had done. They begged to see their rescuer; their savior. But the king could not see his people if he had wished, and he did not wish to. Malachi was a disgrace. A man without a soul. He had only one man that he spoke to, and even this man could not look upon the king. He was the spokesman. The king's messenger. Malachi began to age quickly, not in heart, but in physical form. Only ten years had gone by and yet the king seemed as if he had aged a lifetime. His eyes were heavy, and his hands withered. He could no longer walk without the use of cane, though he walked little as it was. His hair was white and grey. He had a foul smell, for he never washed. He never left the throne room of the castle but once a month. On the first of every month, Malachi would climb to the top of the castle, and look down at his kingdom; at his people.

-CHAPTER FOUR-
The curse grew deep inside of Malachi, and as it grew his power failed. He could no longer hinder any part of the curse, and it began to consume him. His thoughts began to grow as foul as his smell. Images of fire and burning bodies consumed his dreams. One morning, he was awakened from such a dream by his messenger.
"There is a man who demands to see you," said the messenger.
"I will see no one." declared the Malachi, his voice as old as his body.
"He is a king." said the messenger.
Malachi's eyes grew wide. There were no kings for a thousand miles.
"Send him in."
TIme passed. Footsteps echoed across the hall.
"What business have you here," said Malachi, facing away from the visitor.
"I come with grave news." said the all to familiar voice.
Malachi turned, and faced the king whom he had seen in his vision ten years ago.
"You are not welcome here." Malachi's voice was harsh.
"Do not blame me for what happened O king."
"I am no king," Malachi whispered.
"But you are. You are a great king under a might curse."
"Why did you not tell me this would happen when you sent me out so with such passion? I though I would be great. I thought I would be a deliverer. You did not tell me about a curse."
"No." said Obadiah. "I did not tell you about the curse."
"Why?" asked Malachi; pain and sorrow and regret and anger all coming together in the one word.
"Because you would not have gone."
Malachi took hold of Obadiah’s throat.
"I hate you!"
Obadiah did not blink or flinch.
"I came to warn you, Malachi."
Malachi took away his hand and turned.
"Warn me of what? A curse? You are too late."
"I came to warn you of what the curse will bring if it is not quenched."
"I live every day with the causes of the curse. I know well it's power." said Malachi.
"You know nothing of it's power,” Obadiah quickly interjected. He paused deep in thought. “The evil king you so bravely destroyed was once not so unlike you. He was a good prince; honest and brave. But greed took him, as it does so many. This city had once been built only of gold. The houses, the streets, the towers, and the gates had all been made of gold. There was no structure of any other thing. But when the evil one took my throne, he took the city for his own. The once beautiful city was destroyed from the inside. The king took every brick of gold, and did not leave one. With these stones he built his castle, reaching past the clouds. But no evil comes without a price, and a great curse befell the king. Into each brick of gold that had been stolen, a part of the king's soul had been placed, until there was none left. The king could only survive as long as he dwelt in the castle, and if he were to ever leave, he would be no more. But the rain falls on the just and the unjust alike. And once a curse has been placed, it cannot be undone, until the sin be undone. It is this curse, Malachi, that plagues you now.”
Malachi fell to his knees, and stared at the golden floor beneath him...at his soul.
"What can be done?"
Obadiah lowered his head.
"Nothing."
"Nothing." repeated Malachi, despair flooding the word. "Then why have you come?"
“To warn you."
"Of what!" shouted Malachi.
"The curse is growing deep. It's mission nearly complete. The curse will grow worse. Far worse. It will not stop until it has been reversed. You will become evil Malachi. By your eyes I can tell that this has already begun."
Malachi closed his eyes, seeing flashbacks from his nightmares.
"I have had dreams." Malachi admitted.
"Dreams?"
"I see fire, rising from the city. I see burning bodies. I hear nothing, but I can see the screaming children. I can see the babies lying on the torched earth with no mother to hold them. I see pain, suffering, and blood." A tear began its slow descent down Malachi's cheek. "And then I see myself, at the topmost part of the castle, standing with a bloody sword raised high. I am laughing, cheering on the flames." Malachi paused for a long time. "And then I wake up." He stood once again from the floor and faced the king. "You told me that nothing can be done, but you also said that the curse will not stop until it has been reversed. How can it be reversed if there is no hope?"
"There is one course of action," said the king. "One only. And it will claim your life."
"What must I do?" asked Malachi.
"The curse can only be undone, if the action which brought it about is undone. The city must be made as it once was; it's glory restored. The Kingdom of Gold must be rebuilt."
"And each stone that is carried into the city will hold a piece of my soul, until there is no more," said Malachi. "Until I am utterly destroyed."
"Yes."
Malachi thought for a long time; so long that he forgot about Obadiah and the city and every moment before the curse. He saw Frieda's face, her beautiful face. He could hear her laugh as she ran ran about the daisies. And then he saw his mother, washing clothes at the river with the other women. Malachi tried so hard to hold on to the memory, but slowly it vanished, and he was brought back to the castle. The curse.
"I will make my decision tomorrow." Malachi said at last.
"Please. There is no time." begged Obadiah.
Malachi raised his hand. "Tomorrow."
With that, Obadiah left. Malachi would never see him again.

-CHAPTER FIVE-
The night offered little sleep for Malachi. Nightmares haunted him like never before; for they seemed so very real. He dreamt that his messenger came to the door, waiting for a message. Malachi dreamt that he gave the messenger a grave order. Malachi told the messenger to summon every soldier of the land and attack the city. They were to leave none alive. Not men. Not women. Not children. No one. The messenger tried to reason with the king, but Malachi would hear nothing of it. And so the messenger complied. The soldiers were gathered. Twenty thousand. They attacked the city on the first of the month, and midnight. Malachi watched from the topmost point of the castle, an evil smirk forming from his lips. The soldiers attacked by sword and fire. No house was left standing. They were all burned to ashes, as was each citizen. Malachi clapped his hands as he saw his people running wild, trying to flee; unable to do so. He could see the little children screaming for their mothers, but he could not hear the screams above his own roaring laughter. Blood began to flow down the streets like a river. And then, Malachi stopped laughing. Now every sound from below filled his ears, and he relished every single one. But then Malachi heard something that he did not expect.
"Malachi. Stop!"
Malachi turned. It was Frieda. He could barely recognize her bloodied face, but he knew the voice well. He had heard it every night since he had met her.
"Stop!" she begged. "Please."
She fell to her knees.
"Please. My king. Please."
Malachi could only imagine what Frieda was seeing as she look at himself. Malachi had not seen his reflection in ten years, but he knew by the touch that his face was not the same. It was pasty, and wrinkled. He had not seen his eyes, but if they reflected half of the evil he felt, they must be glaring red. And then a second person came into view. The messenger. He was out of breath, and had obviously been chasing Frieda. He held a sword in his right hand. Malachi wanted to stop the messenger, but he was lost in Frieda's eyes. He could not escape.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this." he muttered too quietly to be heard above the cries of the city.
The messenger's sword buried into Frieda's back and through her heart. She fell on her face. Malachi blinked, and for the first time realized; this was not a dream.

-CHAPTER SIX-
Two days passed. Malachi had stopped the attack, but few had survived. It is said that the cries of the king could be heard even to the farthest ends of the land. No time in history had been so dark. So evil. At the rising of the red sun, the king summoned his messenger.
"Look into my eyes." Malachi said softly.
The messenger looked for a moment, and then turned away.
"I cannot!"
"Look into my eyes!" screamed the king.
The messenger did his best.
"What I am about to order you will be my final order. You must accept none other after it."
"My king?"
"Swear this to me." Malachi ordered.
"I swear."
Malachi rubbed his weary eyes.
"Destroy the castle. Take each stone, and bring it to the city. And once every stone has been taken, rebuild the city, as it once was. Build such a city as has never been made nor ever shall be. Every house, every street, and every tower shall be made of the gold of this cursed castle. But the door of the castle shall not be destroyed. The door shall be placed in the center of the city, so that every man, woman, and child may remember what happened this day. So that they might rmember that King Malachi was not always an evil king."

-CHAPTER SEVEN-
And so the order was carried out. And with each stone that was removed, so was that part of the king's soul. Malachi cried out in agonizing torture.
"Stop!" He would cry. "I command you to stop!"
But the messenger obeyed the king's first command, and did not follow any other. More stones were removed, and more of Malachi's soul was brought to the city. The king fell to the ground, never to rise again. His screams filled the streets of the city. The people stood motionless; awestruck. They were witnessing the ultimate sacrifice. At last, every stone was removed, save the door. The king crawled to the base of the door, and using the very last of his strength he begged the soldiers,
"Please. Please do not do this." Tears flooded his eyes, whose red was slowly turning a soft blue. "Please."
The soldiers would have listened, had it not been for the orders of the messenger. The soldiers dug out the earth beneath the door, raised it onto their shoulders, and began to carry it down the hill to the city. The messenger followed not far behind them. Tears stained his cheek, and try as he might to wipe them away, the tears would not stop. He turned, one last time, to look upon the king he had served for ten years. The king who had once been merely a young, innocent, boy named Malachi. He looked back to see the king who had saved a city in shambles, and restored it. The messenger turned to look at the body of the king who had destroyed the same city he had saved. He looked back to see the body of his son, who had given his life to save his people. But the king's body was gone.

the end.