Imparlian Tales, pt 4: Eliza's Memoirs, First Entry

Imparlian Tales, pt 4: Eliza's Memoirs

First, there was silence. Just silence. Hours and hours of silence, with no interruptions. I could feel nothing… whether or not I still had my body, I could not tell. There was no light. I could smell only the foul stench of human excrement and that was the only indication that I was still alive. I could not remember my name. I did not know where I had come from, where I had been or how I ended up where I was. But I did have one memory: laughter. Cold, evil laughter coupled with a blinding white light that was pierced with the silhouettes of a man and a woman.
That memory was the only thing I had to think about while I floated in the everlasting darkness.

Then one day it happened. The jingle-jangling of what I recognized to be the sound of keys, then the click-click of keys entering a lock and the cluck-cluck of the lock turning. And moments later, my goodness, there was light! It had been an eternity since I had seen light! It caused my eyes to explode in pain – the only thing I had felt in what seemed like years… At least I knew that I still had eyes.

‘Eliza Schringenger?’  A voice from beyond the light? I was confused. ‘Eliza Schringenger?’
‘It is I’ replied another, croaky voice. Ah, the feeling of speaking once again was a splendid one… Then shock, as I realized that it was I who had spoken!
‘Do you know why you are being held in the Palace Dungeons?’ the voice from beyond the light asked, though seemingly demandingly, as though it had expected me to answer.

‘I am here under suspicion of treason; conspiring against palace officials, including King Yonfair; nineteen counts of sexual indecency involving non-Imparlian persons; distributing illegal weapons to enemies of the state and aiding two fugitives in evading the law’, I answered, without hesitation. My response was automatic; I had no time to even contemplate before my mouth began moving, saying things of its own accord.

‘Your trial will be on the ninth day of the third moon. This is on the morning after tomorrow’s night. You are entitled to an attorney, as is Imparlian custom. Who do you elect as your representative in the court of law, Ms. Schringenger?’
‘Zak A Burkenshire, Palace Alchemist, Warlock and Philosopher’ I replied, instinctively.
A few moments of silence, followed by whispering… Another voice was among my own and my captor.
‘Ms. Schringenger, Zak A Burkenshire is a palace exile’ said the first, more familiar voice. ‘He will be unable to represent you in a court of law. The magick around the palace will not permit him to enter, even if he were to be summoned appropriately. I shall ask again: Who do you elect as your representative in the court of law, Ms. Schringenger?’
‘Zak A Burkenshire, Palace Alchemist, Warlock and Philosopher’ I repeated, again without immediate realization.
There was more whispering, this time accompanied by tutting and sighing, from the first voice and his companion.
‘Ms. Schringenger, we must remind you that summoning somebody who will be unable to get in to the palace as a legal representative will leave you without an appropriate defence and therefore found guilty under failure to attend. So I shall ask you again and only once more: Who do you elect as your representative in the court of law, Ms. Schringenger?’
‘Zak A Burkenshire, Palace Alchemi – '
I was interrupted by the stern voice of my apparent captor, ‘Drixie, please attend to this woman. Allow her to see sense, or force it upon her if you must’.
‘Yes, my Lord’ hissed the acquaintance of the first voice. A woman.
Everything went dark again. Footsteps... Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
And then there was the bright light – that horrid, overbearing white light. And pain. Intense, horrible pain.
All went blank…

*
‘Ms. Schringenger, who do you elect as your representative in the court of law?’
‘Zack A Burkenshire, Palace Alchemist, Warlock and Philosopher’ I said again.
‘Tut. Drixie, you know the drill’.
‘Yes, my Lord’ said the woman.
Footsteps again, going click-a-clack, getting closer and closer.
‘Wait!’ I yelled out. The first thing I had said of my own will.
There was a brief moment of silence and then there was the shuffling of chains… iron pinging against iron.
‘I’m sorry, Eliza. Zak will be here. You are doing great. It’s only been three days and you’re already fighting the mind control curse Zak put on you. He was right: you are a remarkable woman. The Elves must be proud to have you as their own. Hang in there, Eliza, Zak will be here tomorrow. Please, just keep it in your head that Zak A Burkenshire is your legal representative or else the palace magick will break your spirit. Please, Eliza, just keep fighting. You are almost done’.
‘Please… I don’t know… I don’t know…’ I pleaded.
‘Drixie?’ said the male voice. My captor. ‘What’s going on in there?’
‘She is becoming ill with resisting the palace magick, my Lord’ said the woman.
‘Hm. Indeed, a strong woman. Certainly, she is a Burkenshire protégé, through and through. Cast the torture spell again, Drixie. We must stomp it out of her before the court case tomorrow or else the Judge will be most displeased. And for goodness sake, do it right this time too’.
‘Yes, my Lord’.
The white light… And pain, more intense than before. I let out a scream that shook my own ear drums, silenced by the crushing of my face under a heavy boot.

*

Suddenly, there was light. I could see, but didn’t want to. It stung too much. I curled in to a ball, the sound of chains scraping against concrete, accompanying my movements. I was naked, I realized as my skin scratched against the floor. I shut my eyes tightly, the pain of the light too much to bare.
‘Ms. Shcringenger, your trial will be in fifteen minutes. Must you still insist on your original proposition for legal aid?’ said the same, cruel voice of a man that had taunted me for a time I cannot estimate.
‘Zak A Burkenshi – ‘
‘Very well, Ms. Shringenger. You will be summoned to the court room in ten minutes and the trial shall begin in fifteen. Do you have any requests?’
‘Clothes.’
‘Humility is not permitted for prisoners, Ms. Schringenger, by order of yours truly, Lord Oziz. You may request – ‘
‘CLOTHES!’ I roared. The revelation that I was naked had angered me.
‘Tut… You Elves… Such proud creatures aren’t you’ the man jeered. ‘It’s a shame, to be honest with you. You’d have all made such good allies to King Yonfair, especially you, Ms. Schringenger. Very well, it shall be documented that you have no requests. Prepare for teleportation, Ms. Schringenger’.
Teleportation? I hate teleportation. I remembered that…
‘I – I’
The man chuckled.
‘Open your eyes, Ms. Schringenger’.
‘No!’
‘Open them!’
I opened my eyes. They stung as the light hit them. Everything was blurry, I couldn’t make much out beside the outline of a large man, dressed in brown and a large helmet decorated with something red, perhaps feathers…
‘Good, good. Perhaps you may learn obedience after all, Ms. Schringenger. I shall be teleporting you – ‘
‘NO TELEPORTATION!’
My protests were met with the stomp of a boot that made a fierce connection to my jaw. And then, there was the taste of blood.
Laughing. Horrible, evil laughing.
‘I really do enjoy watching you Elves suffer, I must admit –'... my face was being stroked, by a cold, wrinkly hand, ‘as much as I must admit you are a fine race… Beautiful, elegant, powerful… Everything your country has to be proud of lies within each member of your race, Ms. Schringenger. Perhaps that is why I enjoy torturing you all so much? Hahaha…’
‘My Lord!’ snapped the woman’s voice.
‘Drixie, my dear!’ chuckled the man.
‘Hasn’t Judge Seagal told you not to interfere with Ms. Shringenger? If she were to fall pregnant by the seed of a human, the Elves will release their dragons upon Imparliar. Thus far, Burkenshire has kept the Elves docile, with much difficulty’.
‘Burkenshire is old decrepit fool with too much of an ego and a history of treason under his belt. Do you truly trust the words of a sneaky Warlock, Drixie?’
‘Burkenshire, though exiled from the palace, is what's stopping all-out war with the Elves. He may be a suspected enemy of the state, but the fact remains that King Yonfair needs his presence to assure peace during these difficult times. Times made only more delicate by the fact we have one of the only six pure blooded Elf-women in the world in our custody. Without Burkenshire preventing the Elves from unleashing the dragons - ‘
‘Burkenshire is a tool, Drixie. He is aiding rebels and these Elf… scum. If the Elves truly cared about the fate of Ms. Schringenger, then the dragons would have been unleashed many nights ago!'
There was the shuffling of metal and further footsteps.
‘Perhaps’, growled the woman, dismayed, ‘the subtle nature of Imparlian politics is wasted on you, my Lord’.
There were a few moments of silence, before ‘HOW DARE YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT, WOMAN! I WILL –‘
‘You will what, my Lord? Do as you usually do? Force yourself upon me as you do with the other women of the palace? Perhaps, my Lord, you will do to remember that I am one of the surviving Seven Sisters. The likes of a human cannot kill me, my Lord, so I would put it to you that although you may be of higher ranking than myself, you still ought to show me some respect, if you value your life. I cannot be held accountable if you were to be found with your throat slit...'
‘You nasty little harlot!’ snarled the man. ‘You are nothing but a fuck-thing for King Yonfair. If our King was not swayed by the lust of his eye, you would not be the palace assassin. On the contrary, you would be placed in prison, fucked by trolls for the remainder of your days! Your allegiances with Burkenshire and that traitor Gary Niles are well documented throughout the palace and if I were in charge you would be forced to face the punishment for your treason!’
‘The King knows of my connections with the rebels and Zak Burkenshire. He also agrees that such connections should remain, as to spy on the movements of the afore mentioned. Or do you, my Lord, disagree with the King? Disagree with your own family? Is that not a crime punishable by death within the palace walls? Or, as a mere woman, am I mistaken?’
All had fallen almost silent once more. But, there was heavy breathing. Angry breathing. It was the man. I’d not a clue what it was they were speaking of, but I knew that what the woman had said carried great impact on the man… Was she defending me? Was the man about to rape me? I did not know, but nonetheless I was grateful.
‘Anyway, I believe it is time for Ms. Schringenger to appear before Judge Seagal and the jury. Will you be teleporting her there, or shall I, my Lord?’ said the woman, her voice calm; collected.
‘If you care so much for the whore, then you take her. I shall be in my chambers. When she’s found guilty, I wish to have her summoned to me. Convicts are after all, my property. Good day, Drixie’.
The man’s footsteps faded briskly and the slamming of a door signaled that his presence was no longer with us. I felt better immediately. Safer.
‘That’s Lord Oziz. The King’s cousin. A foul, foul man. But fear not, Eliza, he cannot touch you again. Prepare yourself, we are about to teleport to the court room.'
‘Clothes…’ I whispered.
‘I cannot arrange that now, Eliza. Just remember who it is you wish to summon as your legal representative.'
‘Zak A Burkenshire, Palace Alchemist, Warlock and Philosopher’ I said again. Who was this Burkenshire? I did not know… I did not know anything.
‘Very good’
POP!

*

I hate teleportation.
Everything had gone hazy, spinning and spinning. When it stopped, I was dizzy and vomited on to the floor – I was standing now. Or, trembling rather, trying with all my strength to stay upright.
There was laughter and jeering of men. They were laughing at me.
‘Order!’ boomed the gruffly voice of a man. ‘Ms. Schringenger?’
I opened my eyes. I was in a large room, full of people. Rich people, dressed in golden helmets and jewelry, red feathers, and jewel-covered cufflinks.
The room was large. Tall, golden pillars; checkered floors, black and white; metal benches that the rich men sat along, decorated in golden writing I could not understand; pictures of Old Kings covered the walls… I was standing on a wooden box that was about four feet high directly facing the crowd. I covered my modesty as much as I could do, as the chains around my wrists bound my movements (the men jeered some more as I tried to cover myself). To my left, there was a man dressed in a black robe and a large, blue feathered hat that sat behind a large desk of about four feet tall and sat on a throne-like chair. He was old. Very old. His face was wrinkled – like a prune with two slits in which there were blue eyes. He was so wrinkled that it was difficult to tell where his mouth was. His nose was hooked and a pair of half moon glasses rested upon it. He had bushy eyebrows, brown, like his hair.
To my right, clutching my arm was a beautiful woman – the only woman in the room. She had long, silky black hair; large, blue eyes; soft skin; she was small, but with flattering assets that human men would fall before; she wore a white gown, decorated in silver jewelry and strapped to her side was a long, thin sword engraved with more words that I could not understand. This woman must have been Drixie.
‘Ms. Schringenger?’ said the old man with the blue feathers in his hat. ‘I am Judge Seagal. I shall be your Judge for today. Do you know why you are here?’
‘I am here under suspicion of the following: treason; conspiring against palace officials, including the King Yonfair; nineteen counts of sexual indecency involving non-Imparlian persons; distributing illegal weapons to enemies of the state and aiding two fugitives in evading the law’ I said without hesitation.
‘How do you plead?’
‘Not guilty’
‘And who will be your representative in the court of law?’
‘Zak A Burkenshire, Palace Alchemist, Warlock and Philosopher!’
The room became full of whispering, tutting and angry chitter-chatter the moment I answered.
Judge Seagal raised his eyebrows.
‘Zak A Burkenshire has been exiled from the palace for unlawful sexual practices, Ms. Shringenger. Magick surrounding us will not allow him to enter’
POP!
Before me, a man of an odd appearance had suddenly come in to being. He had long, auburn hair and a bushy beard of the same colour. He wore circular glasses, dressed in multi-coloured robes and complete with a tattered, brown, pointy hat. He carried a staff that he was using to keep himself up and in his free hand, the left one, he held a pipe that he was smoking from – the smoke gave off a pungent flowery smell. A smell I recognized. I liked it.
The room had become more buzzed with disgruntled mumbling and sounds of disgust.
‘I believe I have been summoned as a representative in the court of law?’ said the pointy-hatted man in front of me. He turned to Judge Seagal and said, ‘Mr. Zak A Burkenshire, previously employed by the palace as an Alchemist and Philosopher; First Order of the Warlock member, seventh degree; heir to the treasures of the Burkenshire clan; son of the Old King’s sister, illegitimate; Head Wizard of the South Guard; Member of the Seventh Order; Half Elf and half human; Keeper of the keys to the gates of Hades. I am here, summoned by Eliza Schringenger, to represent her in the court of law on the ninth day of the third moon, as requested’.
Judge Seagal smiled slightly. I think he was smiling. It was hard to tell with all those horrible wrinkles.
‘Good morning, Zak’ he said warmly.
‘Oliver’ replied Burkenshire, nodding with a smile.
Burkenshire walked slowly up to me, gave a nod to Drixie who released her grip on my arm and Burkenshire placed a single finger on my arm.
Clothes appeared out of the tip of his finger and wrapped themselves around me; beautiful, luxurious green clothe, decorated with bronze chains. And I remembered everything once again… Everything zoomed back in to my knowledge at Burkenshire’s touch. I knew why I was here and why I had been under a mind control spell… Everything made perfect sense again…
‘This’, said Burkenshire as he turned towards the people in the court room, ‘is Ms. Eliza Shringenger, one of six Princesses of the Elf community of N’aimska. I should perhaps remind the Imparlian people and officials present here today that the Elves are incredibly proud people, who are already hostile to our land after that horrid business with the Giants… and humiliating one of their only women by stripping her naked, especially in front of human eyes, can and if known to them probably will, end up in hostile action. I heavily advise you all that in future, you perhaps show some more respect – ‘
‘TO A FILTHY ELF PRISONER’ heckled one of the men in attendance.
Burkenshire remained calm and softly answered, ‘to perhaps one of the most important people in preventing war with N’aimska’
‘You should be reminded, Burkenshire, that you are exiled from this palace!’
‘Yet I was able to teleport here upon being summoned, was I not? Therefore, the magick that protects the palace that was installed by the Old King clearly does not recognize me as exile-worthy’ Burkenshire said, smiling.
‘But King Yonfair – ‘
‘Cannot overrule the magick of the Old King, the greatest Warlock to have lived on Imparlian land. As talented as our current King may be, he is no Warlock, I hate to inform you. Now, Oliver,’ Burkenshire turned to Judge Seagal, ‘I have a message from the Elf Queen. She begs Ms. Eliza’s pardon, and offers great gifts in return for it’.
I think Oliver pressed his lips together, but I was unsure. This man was so ugly…
‘And what gifts does the Elf Queen wish to offer the palace, Zak?’ he said, pleasantly. I already knew…
‘The necklace of the Seven Sisters – ‘
‘Burkenshire!’ snapped Drixie. I had forgotten she was present. She was one of the Seven Sisters, immortal women who came from the lions of Heaven. It was rumoured that the Seven Gods’ had bore children for the greatest of human warriors many centuries ago, who were seven sisters that were born to a great Elf King. In many ways, Drixie and I were of the same blood – Elf. Since the original seven, each sister has had one daughter each through the ages and they all referred to as one of the Seven Sisters. This is what Drixie was and the necklace of the Sisters was an ancient artifact that was given to the Elf Queen, my Mother, as a gift by Drixie’s Mother several decades ago as a symbol of trust and companionship between the two.
Burkenshire waved his hand dismissively at Drixie. Rightly so, too. The necklace was of high importance to the plan. The plan: it was all that truly mattered.
‘The necklace of the Seven Sisters’ continued Burkenshire, ‘seven thousand Imparlian gold coins and assured peace between the two nations. If Eliza is released, then the Elf Queen will guarantee that the dragons in their service will not be set upon Imparliar under her rule. I believe that this is a generous offer from a society that until now, has never offered their treasures or such treaties to any of their neighbouring countries. As former advisor to the Old King, I strongly recommend that you accept the offer on behalf of the King, Oliver’
‘Ms. Schringenger? What say you? Do you consent to the pardon? You will be found guilty under Imparlian law and unable to enter our land again, but you will be free to return home to N’aimska. If you were to enter Imparliar again, you will be murdered’ said Oliver.
‘I consent’ I mumbled. All that was important was that the necklace of the Seven Sisters was in the palace. That was it. Nothing more.
‘Very well’ sighed Oliver. ‘I, Oliver Seagal, hereby pardon Ms. Eliza Schringenger for the following crimes: treason; conspiring against palace officials, including the Great King Yonfair I; nineteen counts of sexual indecency involving non-Imparlian persons; distributing illegal weapons to enemies of the state and aiding two fugitives in evading the law. You are to be escorted out of Imparliar by Drixie, palace assassin and first maid to the King. On the condition that there are no objections from the jury – ‘
‘I object, Seagal’.
Heads turned. Lord Oziz was making his way in to the court room. The great, fat oaf. Ginger hair, all tangled; wild, brown eyes; a big chin; dressed in the finest of Imparlian armour with red feathers, like many in the jury; warts and pimples dotted all over his cheeks and mouth; scars covering his already ugly face and a neck-beard he had qpparently never bothered to groom.
‘Ah, Lord Oziz’ said Oliver, with a slight quake in his voice.
‘Oliver’ he said, smiling ‘…And Zak’, he added with a cold tone, though still smiling.
‘Oziz’ said Burkenshire gently, beaming as though Oziz was an old friend he had not seen in years. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’
‘This woman… Ms. Schringenger, is a prisoner of Imparliar. Therefore, she is my property, as King Yonfair had instructed me to oversee the fugitives and convicts we had captured. I must object to her pardon, if I may be as bold’ Oziz said, his smile tightening. I hate that man.
‘On what grounds, Oziz?’ asked Burkenshire.
‘On the grounds that Gary Niles and Mrs. Helana Fullbarrow, the fugitives Ms. Schringenger is accused of aiding across the border, are still at large and not in our custody. Under the treaty of the Old King, N’aimskan natives are entitled to pardons, yes, but only if their crimes’ repercussions can be mended. As it is, Gary Niles and Mrs. Fullbarrow are still on the run and therefore one of –‘
‘Ah, yes. You are quite right, Oziz. However, Eliza is also under arrest for having sexual relations with non-Imparlian persons. As a non-Imparlian, she is exempt from this law… Something that your office has overlooked, Oziz. I daresay that your office only charged her with the crime to make her punishment more severe. Therefore, she is entitled to compensation, a law Oliver and myself had written over seven decades ago during the rule of the Old King’ Burkenshire argued.
‘Yes, but if one is in Imparliar for longer than five moons, they are classed as an Imparlian. Ms. Eliza Schringenger has been here for six’ said Oziz, now grinning broadly.
‘Ah, yes’ agreed Drixie, piping up once again. ‘But two of those months were in custody at the minimum security prison of Nishe. While in custody, one is not classed as a civilian’.
‘Very good, Drixie, very good’ said Burkenshire. Oziz’s face turned sour.
‘Then it is settled. Ms. Eliza Schringenger, you are hereby pardoned of the crimes you are facing trial for. As previously stated, Drixie will accompany the pair of you to the borders’, and at the hit of his hammer, Oliver Seagal had given me my freedom.
Burkenshire reached in to one of the pockets of his brown robe while puffing away at his pipe and produced from it a large brown bag that jangled as he dropped it on to Oliver Seagal’s desk and then, from the same pocket, he produced two envelopes.
‘The bag contains the gold promised to Imparliar. The first envelope contains the necklace of the Seven Sisters’ (Drixie tutted loudly) ‘and the second, a signed treaty stating that N’aimska will not launch a dragon-led attack on Imparlian soil under the current Elf Queen’s rule’.
I watched Oziz carefully. His face had gone a horrid purple and he shook with anger. He wanted me so much. He had done since I arrived at the Palace. But it didn’t matter now. The necklace was in the palace. My mission was complete.

*

Carriages pulled by no horses. It was an Imparlian thing; some claimed that they were actually pulled by the souls of loyal soldiers who died in battle and stayed on Earth to continue serving their King and Queens; others insisted that they were pulled by Magick. I did not believe either. I believe that they were pulled by N’aimskan Unicorns, beasts that only appear to loyal servants of the Gods and Goddess’. I believed this because I had seen them on my way to the palace while being moved from the prison of Nishe to the dungeons of Lord Oziz’s command. Then again, I had ingested wild mushrooms, which were all I was able to find for food, on that particular day.
It was I, Drixie and Burkenshire on the one of the carriages being pulled by the N’aimskan Unicorns, later in the day of my pardon. My memory had fully restored by then. I remembered it all:
I, the eldest of the Elf Queen’s daughters, had been sent in to Imparliar as a fugitive so that I could be placed under arrest. This part was crucial – I had to stand trial within the palace walls, so that I may summon Zak A Burkenshire as my legal representative in to the palace to make a delivery to Oliver Seagal. The delivery, of course, was the necklace of the Seven Sisters and the summoning of Zak A Burkenshire had to be done because he was unable to enter the palace by means of normal teleportation. He would have been placed under arrest for trespassing, as he had been exiled after he was caught having homosexual relations with a now deceased judge. Being summoned in a court of law, however, was a kind of magick that the palace officials could not interfere with. I knew little of Imparliar’s magick law, so I cannot say why in great detail, but I knew that by being summoned as a legal representative assured Burkenshire’s immunity to arrest.
It had to be Burkenshire delivering the necklace, because only a Warlock could exchange gifts of the Gods, which is what the necklace of the Seven Sisters was. And only a Warlock or a person of Royal blood could accept such a gift without dying immediately. As Oliver Seagal was representing a Royal (King Yonfair) while acting as a Judge, palace Magick protected him dying upon accepting the necklace.
Burkenshire had placed me under both mind control and memory wiping spells, so that even if Lord Oziz’s torture broke my spirit, I would be unable to spill any secrets. It was Drixie who cast the memory wiping spell every night too, to make sure it was fresh and as powerful as Burkenshire had cast it before entering the palace.
The necklace, being a powerful artifact, had to be placed in the palace for one purpose: on the assumption that Yonfair, being notoriously arrogant and self-delusional would immediately wear it to use the power within it, ignorant of the fact that the last Elf or Seven Sister to have touched it can read the mind of anybody else wearing it. Having Drixie in the palace as a spy wasn’t enough, it had occurred to Burkenshire. We needed a direct access to Yonfair’s whereabouts, thoughts and feelings. Nobody besides myself, my sisters, one or two male Elves, Burkenshire and my Mother knew the true power of the necklace.
It was a tactical mission, with the reward of an impressive upper hand over Yonfair and his officials... and we had succeeded. The three of us were celebrating on the carriage, smoking the Shiva herb (a herb that grew in the Outer Earth, another reality to ours, and Burkenshire would bring some back every time he visited there) and drinking Elf Wine, wine so strong that it could kill a human with only one glass. Drixie was a Seven Sister and I was pure elf. Burkenshire was half Elf and a Warlock, so he was okay too.

‘We did it!’ laughed Burkenshire, pumping his fist. ‘We actually did it! Eliza, this means your mother can – ‘
‘Can directly access the thoughts of King Yonfair, yes. Most remarkable’ I interrupted. Though I was uplifted from the Shiva Herb and the Elf Wine, my heart was still heavy. My mind kept on asking: what if Lord Oziz had forced his self upon me? Drixie had been overseeing me and protecting me during my incarceration, but what if Oziz had slipped out of her radar? Mother would be furious is I fell pregnant to a human… Especially after I had not shown an interest in men throughout my entire life…
‘Perhaps you are slightly worried?’ said Burkenshire, as though reading my thoughts. I hated it when he did that. Sometimes it made me wonder if he did have powers of telepathy. ‘Fear not, Eliza. When I touched you in the court room, as I lifted the curses I had placed on you and gave you clothes, I also checked to see whether or not you had been defiled by the touch of Oziz. As it turns out, you have not’.
I immediately felt relieved.
‘I told you she had my full protection while in the Palace, Burkenshire’ said Drixie, a note of offence in her voice.
‘Do not be discouraged, Drixie. I did not doubt for a moment that you would fail in your mission. I also sense that you are still somewhat offended by the necklace being handed over to the enemy?’ Burkenshire said, wisely.
‘You understand that we cannot just take that back? Yonfair must either give it back, or the Elf Queen must kill him to retrieve it? You know this, right?’
‘Of course I know, Drixie. This is not my current concern. Right now, my concern is preventing war. We cannot begin a war until the boy is safe’.
‘Speaking of the boy’ I growled, ‘Have Gary and Helena delivered him safely to my Mother?’
‘Yes, Eliza, young Yetar is safe within the Elf Queen’s domain. He is to be delivered to Outer Earth when the portal open during the Black Moon’ Burkenshire retorted happily.
‘The there is still hope for the world…’

Imparlian Tales Pt 3: The Burkenshire Prologue

28 days before "The Passing of a King"


"Over Hills and valleys,
Where the Elf and the Dwarf did play,
There were fairies; dragons; the mule and the Oxen,
The warrior and his begotten maid."

It was Deen (which meant "faith" in the common tongue) Burkenshire, brother of Zak A Burkenshire and cousin to Rabbit the Wise, riding on the back of a mule, singing Imparlian folk songs, through the village of Niché. He had long, brown hair - all curly like, matted up in some places, sprouting dreadlocks here and there. He wore a multi-coloured, Kaleidoscope-patterned robe, a hooded tie-dyed jumper with a pointed hood and these big old boots that went clunky-clunk when he walked. And he was old - very old.

His singing was heard by his brother Zak, who sat in his garden smoking what the folk of the time called "shiva herb" from a wooden pipe, bathing in the roaring hot summer sun. Zak looked very much like his brother - only with Auburn hair and a long beard. Both, you see, were wizards of the Seventh Order - they dressed somewhat similarly, in the robes given to them upon initiation in to the Order.
"What news does Deen the Watcher bring from the Outer Earth, I wonder?" Zak called from over his six foot garden fence. The singing stopped and the sound of hooves seized
"Verily my dearest brother, I have indeed travelled to the Outer Earth. But what I have found therein is far greater than what even our own leader, Farhan the Bearded can imagine - I come bearing news from the Gods themselves!" Deen answered. "Come, open your gate and boil the kettle my dear brother, so that we may converse over matters previously unknown to our eyes!"
Zak shot up from his place on the garden grass and swung his gate upon.
"Deen, haven't you been travelling with Rabbit the Wise? Have you been indulging in the Mushrooms of cattle dung too? You know those things have made Rabbit's wisdom bent and warped?" inquired Zak, skeptically. -"They were created for the people of the Outer Earth. Not Imparlian's."
"Yet you smoke the Shiva Herb?" Deen pointed out.
Zak stared intensely in to Deen's eyes for a few moments, as though angry. Then, as if rehearsed, the pair simultaneously broke out in to laughter.
"Come inside, let us reason!" chuckled Zak.
"I would very much prefer under your apple tree. The weather is a blessing this day, let us take advantage of it", replied Deen.
"Come, come. I've a pot of chai tea already boiled!"

And so the pair sat beneath the large apple tree and each stuffed their own pipe full of Shiva Herb and poured themselves a large mug of tea each. They sat silently for a while, puffing and blowing smoke rings, until their eyes became red with the sunset, and they began to speak.
"So tell me, Zak, what news is there of Imparliar? It has been many years since I've come home from the Outer Earth. How is the Man King?" asked Deen.
"The Man King has become gravely ill - I suspect poison. A deep evil is rising throughout the Twelve Lands, I fear. And the Man King, I believe, is its first victim" answered Zak.
"The Man King has reigned for seven decades. Surely it is time for him to grow frail?" said Deen, raising his eyebrows.
"Yes, but his sickness cannot be accounted for. And many of our kinsmen have passed from a similar illness. Last week, both Frederick the Astral, his brother William and Farhan the Bearded passed from their physical bodies, back to the realm of the Seven Goddesses" Zak replied, before taking a large puff of his pipe.
"Yes. This news reached me while in the Outer Earth. Very sad, but I didn't see.it as suspect..."
"What? How? How did you come to know this?"
"The Earth-man, Zak. The Earth man has been creating medicine greater than the magick of Imparliar. He is even able to see the eleven realities with these medicines. Rabbit the wise has taken a liking to them, and persuaded me to join him in a dosing session... It was then that the news of our kinsmen dying reached me, from the other realities!" exclaimed Deen.
"Impossible! We, like the Earth-man, can only observe the third reality! It is a rule of the Gods! It cannot be undone! What is this nonsense you speak of?" Zak retorted with rebuke.
"The Earth-man now has wizards of his own: Shulgin, Hoffman, Leary... They have been modifying the likes of cattle mushrooms, the fungi of bread and chemicals of seeds - they have created magick beyond our comprehension, my brother. They have surpassed the realm of the Twelve Lands in technology..."
"Impossible..." whispered Zak. "Our kinsman are falling... Humankind is excelling the likes of Elves, Dwarves, Wizards and Imparlians... The Old King has - "
"Has sown his seed within the stomach of an Elf Princess," interrupted Deen, "is what you're about to tell me, yes?"
"How did you know that? Only 3 people know that information, Deen."
"Do you not have ears, Zak? The medicines of the Earth-man is extraordinary. I have seen things you cannot imagine, my brother..."
"Explain."
"You ask the impossible, Zak. But very well, I shall at least try...
"The great philosophers, alchemists and wizards of our world have agreed the facts that there is, at the very least, eleven realities, yes? The Earth-man calls them dimensions. Each has its own laws and its own measurements of space and time. You concur, Zak?"
"Yes, yes, continue."
"Well, as you know, higher realities can observe the lower ones - for example, we can observe the second and the first, but not the fourth and upwards. But what if I told you that actually, we of the third reality can indeed observe the fourth at the very least, as well as the infinite worlds and collections of stars and planets across the plane of existence?" Deen said, all eerily.
"I would say you are mad."
"Mad? How was it then that I was to know of the Man King laying with the Elf princess? How did I know that our kind are a dying breed? It was because I have been contacted by both the departed and the soul of the unborn child. They all reside as one, not their individual physical selves we came to know, within the collective pool of consciousness that transcends all of the dimensions and universes - that which we all are and come from. Yes, they have contacted me!"
"The Earth-man has made this magick? Astonishing... Go on. Tell me more of what you think you've uncovered..." said Zak.
"Imagine seeing colours you have not seen before. Imagine knowing of a direction that we of the third reality just cannot observe, describe or practice... Imagine seeing objects that you once believed to be solid vibrate liquid-like so that you can see them for what they truly are: mass energy, billions of tiny little... Things... All vibrating violently to create the illusion of being a 'solid' object... Try and wonder what it be like to grow bored with day-to-day life, as all that is third dimensional looks flat after witnessing other realities.
"What if colour lost its appeal, as you knew that there was more, far brighter and more complicated colours eithin existence. What if you forgot who you were? Your identity faded in to nothingness and you were at one with everything. The trees, the cattle, the grass, the land...
"That is what the Earth-man's magick does to the mind. It is a dangerous thing, brother. But it graced me in revealing the secret that the Man King has bore a child with an Elf. You know what this means, Zak..."
"Yes. The time of prophecy is upon us. When the Man King passes, Imparliar will be flung in to war..."

Imparlian Tales Part 2: Woodrose the Warrior

Woodrose the Warrior from the west of Imparliar,
Had rode through my town one night.
In his hand was a gun and clenched in the other,
Was a blood-soaked and old rusty knife.

He had been running, from the sheriffs a-coming,
For a crime in which he claimed no guilt.
He'd been deemed guilty for burning a building,
That he and his beloved had built.

You see, it had been found that though she was bound,
By marriage, his wife was still led astray.
The sheriff had alleged, and the judge convincingly said,
That Woodrose burnt down the house in a rage.

But Woodrose denied it, and tried to fight it,
When the sentence he was dealt was death,
He said, "This judge is mad, if he thinks he can have,
The last word over my final breath"

So Woodrose attacked and he hacked and he slashed,
His way out of the courtroom that day,
He'd said he'd been framed; his wife was murdered and raped,
By bandits whose gang carried no name.

He said that his wed was forced in to bed,
And the perpetrators burnt down his house.
So as he outran the law, he became of Imparlian Lore,
Playing games of the cat and the mouse:

While on the run, he'd stop at each one,
Of the towns that he would cross along his way,
Looking for the bandits who had gleefully handed,
Him life's miseries and turmoil's spread out on a plate.

And finally he reached, this small town on a beach,
The town in which I reside.
He looked bloody and beaten, his soul was half eaten,
And seeing the towns tavern, he went on inside.

There Woodrose had found, this man sleeping all sound,
Who had passed out from drinking all day.
Woodrose recognised the face, the gun on the waist,
It was one of those men who had taken his wife's life away.

Standing there grinning, he threw the barman a shilling,
And slashed the sleeping bandit across the throat,
And then he collapsed, he fell straight on his back,
In blood, his coat was thoroughly soaked.

It had seemed he'd been stabbed, in an open attack,
By the bandit's gang while riding on down the Highway,
I'll never forget, the man's final breath,
As he died and cried out his wife's name.

"Samantha!", like a panther, he roared, As he laid there weeping to death,
"I have finally avenged her, blessed be the God that sent her,
With Him I have assured where I rest,

For it is certain, that as the curtain,
Closes on life and I begin my rest,
That Heaven won't open, it's doors it will close them,
On any man who kills for the sake of revenge"

This is the tale of Woodrose the Warrior,
A man of Imparlian myth.
But I was there, and it was my bare,
Two eyes that I witnessed this with.

His story is told, by the young and the old,
Throughout Imparliar and all of the lands,
And as I share it with you, I assure you it's true,
For as leader of the gang... his wife's blood has drenched the bones of my hands.

Imparlian Tales: The Passing of a King

THE PASSING OF A KING

(A Poem I wrote while off my face in Brighton one evening)

And so darkest dawn had risen on the land of Imparliar,
The King, who had ruled for seven decades,
Was ill with a disease that no doctor could identify,
No priest could pray for,
No mother could care for,
No man could cope with,
And no child could understand.

The King’s wives, children and subjects were summoned,
To the deathbed of their land’s Father,
Where they were each given a gift,
The gift of asking the King any question,
That he cannot lie to,
That he cannot ignore,
That he must answer or face eternity in the Imparlian Realms of Hades

They stood around their King,
As he laid frail and un-groomed,
Each person contemplating their question,
Some wanting to con the king,
Some wanting to gain his wisdom,
Some wanted to trick him in to revealing scandalous secrets,
But some only wished to remain silent and weep.

“Come” growled the King,
And his subjects submissively obeyed –
“You may each ask me any question,
But woes on to those who come like jackals,
Like thieves in the night,
Wanting to steal my name and reputation,
Only to slip away protected by the traditions of Gods”

“But verily, I say on to you who come with sorrow,
Those who come with an inquiry of Kingly wisdom,
And to those who come wishing me peaceful passing in to the Outer World,
You are those who have truly been blessed,
Like the Mother of our saviour,
Your generations to come will be clean,
Unharmed in the face of The Adversary”

“Now you may each come forth and present your inquiries,
Of whatever nature –
I grant you each a single question,
So pick wisely for it will be your last opportunity –
And unto ye who come with hate,
Make no mistake that your question holds no validity,
Unless it may be ‘how can I attain love?’”

A business man approached The King,
And asked “What is the true importance of money?
Have you not lived in a palace your entire life?
Have the children you speak so highly of not starved beyond the palace walls?
Has Imparliar not been stricken by disease and famine during your reign?
While your money has kept your belly full,
And your body healthy and strong!”

“Perhaps the greatest lie ever told,
Is that there is not enough for anyone.
This is venom!
Like the plague that rats carried through Imparliar,
Are the lies that people tell each other,
Guarding each other in a prison,
A prison with no bars, walls or security”

“Riches are like rags to the wise man!
He can gather as much as he wants,
Yet only wishes for what he needs.
He understands that money is not the root of all evil,
But it is The Adversary’s favourite accessory.
He knows that poverty is a lie,
Imposed by those who wish to keep wealth in its own shadow!”

“I would have rather lived as a poor man,
And have a better chance of reaching Nirvana,
Than to have lived as I have,
In blissful ignorance of my people’s poverty,
In arrogant delusions of the divine right to rule,
In clouded anger towards our neighbouring lands,
In ambitious greed of guarding my wealth”

And a nationalist stepped forward,
And posed the question “What of this ‘Mother Land’?
Is our place of origin not Imparliar?
Are we not the proud walkers of such a majestic land?
Where else could Imparlian’s have come from than Imparliar?
Are we now to believe that our heritage is to be shared with infidels?
Is this not against Ancient Imparlian scripture?”

“You believe what you are told by the churches?
Then you are perhaps stupider than I imagined!
Like the contraband in a prisoners cell,
Like the secrets of wizards and witches,
Like the darkest times of a man’s life,
Like the love of a man too afraid to love,
Has our history been hidden!”

“Yes, I say un to each of you,
That only half the story of the entire world has been told!
Look to the East!
Where life itself began,
Where the final chapter shall be written,
Where we all come from,
Regardless of skin colour, eye shape or where on a map you were born!”



And so, an old woman stepped forward first,
And set the King another question.
“My Lord, I have lived on Imparlian Soil,
For no less than fifty years.
I have met the greatest of gurus,
And wisest of Men, yet none can answer:
Who is God?”

And the King replied,

“You are all so naïve!
Must my dying moments be met with such ignorance?
Must you ask a question you have been born to understand?
You need not look further than your own eyes,
And you need not reach any further than your hand,
Because God remains within you,
And is you”

“Yet you seek The Most High in external reality,
One which is merely collectively perceived,
And therefore it is not the reality of God,
Only the plane to build The Most Highs temple,
Which is you,
For you create your own reality,
And therefore must assume the position of your own creator

“For what use is an entity that we have not met,
Conversed with,
Reasoned with,
Bonded with,
Cried with,
Laughed with,
And whose existence is therefore unimportant?

“Have you such low self esteem that you believe,
Even if you were shown compelling evidence to the contrary,
That you are not in control of your own life?
Must you always look to con men,
Like the gurus who charge you money for their wisdom,
Yet claim to be enlightened,
Woe unto you – you have sold your soul to The Adversary!”

And then stepped forth a man in his mid twenties,
And asked “What of Sexual Immorality?
Those of the Churches and Temples
Tell us how we should conduct ourselves sexually,
So what say The King Of Imparliar,
What punishment does he believe,
Is suitable?”
And The King, with a look of dismay,
Answered

“You people are all so immoral,
That it is not your sexual conducts that condemns you!
It is the way you debate, theorize and discuss,
A freedom that it fundamental to humanity.
Sexual freedom is the beginning of all freedoms.
Only through the fulfillment of one’s desires can one achieve enlightenment,
And those of sexual nature are some of the highest importance.

“If a man were to lay with another man,
As he would with a woman,
Why must he face the punishment of social denial?
From those who practice the same act,
Yet justify it because of what the texts of old men,
Men time should have forgotten,
Had said thousands of years ago?

“Is it so much of a crime to express love?
Is love not the beginning and end of our happiest moments,
The alpha and omega of our emotions,
The brightest hour of our days,
The warmest night of our summers –
Surely one should be congratulated for finding that of which we all seek,
Rather than condemned for their choice on who to love?

“But I must concur,
There is sexual immorality in the world.
It is not the act of Sodomy,
It is not the act of Adultery,
It is not the act of Polygamy,
Nor is it the act of Monogamy –
It is the act of lying with animals or those too young to bare children.

“Yes, those who lay with what cannot consent,
Are those who the truly sexually immoral.
They are the perverts,
The ones deserving of stoning -
However, we must not succumb to them,
For we must keep ourselves holy and pure,
By not spilling the blood of anything living regardless of their crimes”

“No, to kill the sexually immoral,
Although understandable,
Is still a sin
They must either be exiled,
Or locked away, given the choice of imprisonment,
Until death,
For they are too dangerous to allow near the children, who are our only hope”

And then one of the Kings sons came forth,
And asked, “What of intoxication?
Alcohol makes a fool of the wisest men,
The smoked crop makes the genius slow,
The Fungi of the fields turns the doctor mad,
The seeds of the Morning’s glory churns the stomach,
Is this not to be outlawed?”

The King, in retort said,

“Are you not intoxicated every day of your life?
Are you not intoxicated by the feelings of happiness?
Are you not intoxicated by the feelings of sorrow?
Much like these emotions,
Intoxicants can be perceived through our minds,
As negative or positive,
Yet they are still teachers of one’s own self”

“Though there are some who abuse intoxicants,
There will always be the majority,
Those who practice intoxication sensibly,
Those who practice intoxication to attain learning experiences,
Those who practice intoxication to share moments with friends,
Those who practice intoxication to celebrate good news,
And verily I say unto you, those people are those with the healthiest of minds”

“Has the Earth not given us food to eat,
Water to drink,
Shade to sit in,
Sunlight to grow our crops?
So why cannot it not give us the means of entertainment,
The means to experience the loss of our dreaded egos,
And the means to achieve our own enlightenment?”

“If you are to accept Mother Nature,
Then you must accept her in her full beauty,
And not reject the parts of her you believe to be impure.
How dare you!
We come from The Earth, and we are only her children!
She dictates us, we do not dictate her.
Even I, the King, am forced to bow at her magnificence”.

“Therefore, we must no longer destroy her crops,
Detest the morning dew she greets us with,
Spray her seeds with poison,
Imprison her children for using her medicine,
For she is the biggest supplier of intoxicants.
Will we place the entire Earth under arrest?
Or sentence her to exile or death?”

And then, One of the Kings wives stepped forward,
Asking, “What meaning does marriage have to us?
I have been one of your brides for two decades,
Yet the pleasures of a Queen are still far!
Marriage is of The Gods,
And I remained loyal to you because of my vows,
But can you share the same right,
To say you were loyal and loving as according to the vows you made?”

“As much as you want it to have –
Marriage does not mean love!
It is merely a vessel that attempts to restrain love!
Love is pure, marriage is tainted.
You hypocrites! You act high and mighty because you are married,
And your children are not bastard children,
Yet you commit the more serious crime of restricting and materializing love!”

“Shame on you!
Marriage means only to have a pompous ceremony,
Where you show off your bride,
Where you parade yourselves in expensive garments,
Where you get drunk in front of your parents,
Where you patronize each other with meaningless ‘vows’.
Love does not require, nor does it want these things”

And so, a maid who had worked at the palace for fourty years stepped forward,
And asked, “What is love, then?
Is love not to spend your life with another?
Is it not to be prepared to die for another?
Is it not to be spiritually dependent on another?
Is it not to be the crutch of another?
How can a adulterous man claim to know of love?”

“Love.
Love is to be drunk without wine.
You can’t think clearly.
You can’t rationalize correctly.
You can’t think without considering your other.
You can’t comprehend a world without them.
Love is dangerous, yet beautiful and crucial for our souls”

“Where there is what we call love, there is reliance.
Where there is reliance, there is cowardice.
Where there is cowardice, there is selfishness.
Where there is selfishness, there is someone getting hurt.
Where there is someone getting hurt, there is sin.
Where there is sin, there is a crime against God.
Where there is a crime against God, there is a crime against you”

“A crime against you cannot be out of love.
Because you cannot love another unless you love yourself,
And if you love yourself,
You’ll realize that what we call love isn’t truly love.
What we call love is pitiful compliance to The Adversary.
What we call love is the ego,
Misguided by lust in attempt to fulfill the souls sexual desires”

“Love is to see ourselves in another,
To see our own divine beauty dwelling within them,
To acknowledge the connection with The Most High,
Which is our collective consciousness,
Which we are all a part of,
Manifesting itself simultaneously as ‘individuals’,
And when we express love it is this collective consciousness acknowledging itself in its purest form”

“That is love.
Love transcends its own etymology.
It is too powerful to be contained in a word,
So we confuse it with the worldly need of sex.
But, sex can be an expression of love.
It is, after all this collective consciousness urging itself to expand,
By having two of its simultaneous manifestations attempting to reproduce”.

“What do you have to say about evil, My Lord?”
Asked the palace Doctor.
“You talk of love as though it is definitive!
You claim love connects all peoples?
But what of The Adversary who disconnects us?
Is he not incapable of Love?
Is he not an agent of evil, that your ‘love’ cannot contain?

“Evil? That is the adversary.
The One who seeks to trick us and lead us astray.
The Adversary is not part of this collective consciousness.
The Adversary is external, and purely malevolent,
And we have philosophized for centuries,
Where it came from,
And Who it is”

“But that it is not important.
What is important is how we defeat it.
For too long have the children of Imparliar stood aside,
While The Adversary causes murder, rape, assault and theft in front of our eyes.
We are divine people,
And deserve to live as so.
The Adversary is within us, but he is not a part of us”

“He is like a cancer,
The excess of the universe,
What need not be there,
Yet insists on growing at a rate seemingly impossible to stop,
Threatening to kill us,
Scaring us,
Making us cower and close our eyes in forced ignorance”

“And the therapy for this cancer,
The only possible medicine,
Is taking responsibility of one’s own life.
If you allow the adversary in to your life,
Then you have allowed yourself to fail.
You have failed because you allowed interference
In becoming who or what you want to be”

“Life was created to be abundant,
We are meant to experience this reality like a child experiences a rocking horse,
Merely for pleasure,
Yet The Adversary wants to trick us,
And tell us that we are not in control,
And that life is supposed to be full of sorrow,
Hard and a heavy road with a meaningless end”

“To defeat the Adversary
You must know who you are.
Knowing who you are means that you will not commit evil,
Because you know that we are one consciousness,
And that to commit an act of evil against another
Is only to commit an act against yourself,
Which nobody would purposely do”.

And then a sherrif stood forward and asked,
“What of The Law, Your Majesty?
The Land is rampant with poverty!
The wails of children deafen the evening skies,
The cries of women shriek through the crevices of the streets,
The groans of the hungry vibrate the nights landscape.
Surely, Your Majesty the law must be reviewed?”

“All laws are made by men by their ego and greediness.
Except one law.
A law that knows not the concept of time,
A law that is impartial to right and wrong,
A law that governs the universe,
And a law that governs the collective consciousness.
That law is of Attraction”.

“The Law of Attraction means one thing.
To assume power and responsibility for one’s own life,
To take absolute control,
To ignore The Adversary,
To live your desires,
To break free of The Adversary’s chains,
The Law of Attraction means true life”

“The Law of Attraction,
Is to manifest the life you want,
It’s to accept the thought that we are in charge,
It’s to expect the expected,
It’s to prophesize with,
And use to fulfill prophecies.
The only law you need concern yourself with, is that of attraction”

And then a teacher of young children moved forward,
And said to the King, “And how must we teach our children?
The children are tomorrow’s parents,
Tomorrow’s politicians,
Tomorrow’s doctors,
Tomorrow’s tax men!
How must we break the chain of each generation delivering hardship for the next?”

“Woe to those who do not lead by example!
The Children will surely grow older,
And murder you on the doorsteps of your own homes!
You misguide the youth with your behaviours,
Yet you teach them to behave otherwise!
Hypocrites!
The blood of tomorrow’s world is on your hands”

“Children must be kept like a best man keeps his friend’s wedding ring.
They are to kept with care,
But they do not belong to you.
Though they are your children,
They are not your property.
They are property of the World,
And like a wedding ring you are to surrender them to their rightful owner when the time is right”

“So what must you teach your children,
You ask?
You must teach them of goodness,
Teach them of love,
Teach them of The Adversary,
Teach them of life.
Do not withhold anything from them – they will surely discover it anyway”

“You people!
You all want to lay the destructiveness of your generation on the youth!
But surely, the Youth of today will rise tomorrow,
And your crimes will be laid bare in front of you and thrown in your faces!
They will rise up against the law of their Fathers,
And a new day will dawn on Imparliar!
Yes, and not bullet or blade of any man will stop them!”

And so, A Politician put it to the King,
“And what would one make of The Revolution?
You talk of the Youth rising up,
Yet you are the King!
Is it not your duty to keep us politicians,
The Doctors; The Lawyers; Tax Collectors; Judges,
In charge of Imparliar’s in peace?”

The King snarled back,
“Peace?!
Your version of peace is perverted!
Your version of peace is keeping the poor down,
And the rich up,
This is not peace, Peace is equality!
Peace is to man what the Stars are to the ocean,
A compliment to its beauty yet so far away”.

“Peace is harmonious with nature,
Like the soft sound of birds twittering is peace to the heart,
Like the gentle evening sea,
Like the spring bees buzzing,
Like the stroking wind caressing its way through the forest,
Is peace to the man,
As it is where the came from and where they are surely destined to return’

“You all talk of peace with such razor tounges,
Mixing it with your politics and trickery!
Surely this is work of The Adversary!
Such materialization of a natural beauty.
Peace is not to be sought for or achieved through hardship,
It is to be rediscovered through yourselves,
Where you will find the hardest of wars”.

“And may I be punished for my transgression as King!
I have forsaken my people!
Yes, in my ignorance I allowed such fiends,
Vampires, Devils and agents of The Adversary,
To rule my land with an iron fist,
While I diverted my attention,
To my worldly, meaningless riches!”

“When I talk of the revolution,
I am talking of a rebirth in government,
True democracy rising like a phoenix,
From the ashes left by the flames of revolutionaries,
Who will burn the established order to the ground,
With all those who once ruled inside,
Their screams like the birds of a new dawn welcoming the sunrise”


And then asked a child,
“What of growing up?
Will we long for the days of childhood,
When we are finished longing for the days of adulthood?
Will we be forced to watch our parents crush our future,
Only to do the same to our children?
Are we chained to this cycle before even having a chance to have lived?”

“I tell you with sincerity, my Son,
Your generation may be the last of our hopes.
The reasonability of Imparliar is thrust upon the youth,
But you must be the first of us to accept it.
For millennia’s we have avoided responsibility,
But you surely understand the responsibility of your own lives?”

“Take control of your own life,
If you wish to change the environment in which you dwell.
Like a mating call human emotion is to this collective reality,
Attracting people, scenarios, events and predicaments,
Depending on the tuning of the emotion.
Emotion is the instrument we use to create our reality,
So if we wish to change what is around us, we must change our tune!”

“Children, keep this knowledge like a pendant!
Close to your heart and always on show!
Then surely you will not be led astray,
And you will create a better world for you,
Your children and their descendents?
You are the Gods of this land,
And what you reap is what your land will sow”.

“What of those who look different to us Imparlian’s?”
Inquired a politician.
“Must we be forced to share our land with immigrants?
Must they have the same privileges an Imparlian would have,
Though they are not of our land,
And only here to be the vampire
Sucking our resources and opportunities?”

“Was Imparliar not built by the slaves that we stole,
Stole from the breast of Mother Earth,
Captured from the land in which time began,
And forced to work like the hounds of the snow,
Or the stallion of the highway?
Do we not owe these people our land for those transgressions?
Must the deeds of our ancestors’ go forgiven without repatriation?”

“Very truly I say unto you of misguided nationalism:
Our great land was built by the sweat of the foreigners’ brow,
And so it is there’s before it is ours!
The sea does not belong to the fisherman,
And the jungle does not belong to the Lion!
As it is, Imparliar does not belong to Imparlians’,
But to creation”

“We are merely residents,
Renting the land from Mother Earth,
Who could open her mouth and swallow us in to the abyss,
Who could vomit liquid lava un to the heads of our children,
Who could drown us in her stormy tsunami’s of tears,
Who could tear our houses from the ground with her breathe,
In a reminder that what we claim to rule is ruler only by her”

And so, the King grew weaker,
As each day passed in to forgotten memories,
But his last words to his public grew stronger,
In those who cared,
In those with no voices who dared to speak,
In those without ears sought to listen,
In the cripple who chose to walk,
And in the elders of Imparliar.

His words were not that of a preacher,
But that of a sinner,
A man who admitted his transgressions,
A man bitter by his own peace of mind,
A man confused with understanding,
A man depraved by his riches,
Yet a man understood by all men.

And on the day of the King’s death,
The sun rose,
Blazing on the winters horizon of Imparliar,
The trees were bare and shivering,
The wind was bitter and harsh,
Yet the sky was cloudless,
And the sun was at its brightest.

He was buried at dusk,
And every creature of the land attended his funeral;
The trees howled with the wind;
The birds sung solemnly with the moans of the cattle;
The men held their women as they wept;
The lions roared with the kicks of the zebra’s
And the stars cried as the moon glistened in their tears.

And written on the Kings tombstone was a poem,
One written by the people,
As it passed from bar to bar,
Pub to pub,
Person to person,
Ear to ear,
Taking its place as a folk psalm.

The Poem read:

Where there are riches, there is gluttony.
Where there is gluttony, there is self indulgence.
Where there is self indulgence there is neglect,
Where there is neglect, there is sin.
Where there is sin, there is the adversary.
Where there is the adversary, there is evil.
But where there is evil, there will always be goodness.
And where there is goodness, there is knowledge.
And where there is knowledge, there is wisdom.
And where there is wisdom, there is usually death.

One God.
And that God is ourselves.
We are one,
We are divine,
We are perfection,
We are love,
We are Omnipotent.

One Aim.
That aim is Love.
Love is freedom,
Love is expression,
Love is beauty untouched,
Love is humble,
Love is powerful.

One Destiny.
Our destiny is our choice.
Like going left or right,
Back or forwards,
Good or bad,
Insane or genius,
Destiny is a forked road that we must choose.