Short Story version of The Legend

I found a short-story version of my Prologue that I wrote a while ago. I'm considering submitting it for consideration at Leading Edge, a SciFi/Fantasy journal at BYU. Please let me know what you think!


The Treasured Star

The fame of the Theudal Mountains has whispered its way into every corner of Amira. Every child, no matter how young or how poor, has heard the legends that originated there. Perhaps the fact that the Theudal Mountains are on the fringes of the war-torn country of Amira helped to foster the legends. Or perhaps the ancient lore is simply a creation of fancy. Whatever the case, the stories about the Mountains are single to the region. Some of the tales often told around the fire in a local bard’s shanty are only believed in the zeal of youth, spurned by the majority of adults. Others are long-held beliefs of every Amirian, passed from generation to generation by venerable storytellers in every hall and hovel across the country. Many legends immortalize great warriors and heroes of ages gone by. More often than not, these are stories of brave men fighting dragons, famed captains who helped fend off invaders endeavoring to harass a crippled country grappling with anarchy, or unflagging explorers who traveled to the haunted mountain passes to face the Demon Lord himself.

Of all the legends of the north – the legends that are most fantastical – one legend refuses to be dispelled. Children of all ages sit at the feet of the traveling bard to listen closely to every tale he tells, a diligent audience to the accounts of their forefathers, each dawdling the whole of the day to hear one legend in particular, one story which leaves them all captivated – the legend of the Treasured Star. Sometimes the tale is told as an exhortation against greed, sometimes as a lament for days gone by. Some claim the legend to be no more than an obstinate creation of fantasy, dreamed up long ago and passed on as mere amusement. But whenever the legend is told, a hush falls over the restless audience members, every countenance lights with excitement, and even the most ostensibly critical townsfolk, who chastise the children for such negligence as putting off chores to listen to an old man’s worthless drivel, creep in among the falling shadows in the doorway of the old fabler’s humble home to hear the legend told anew.


Only then – when the sun has set and the moon is just beginning to rise above the mountain peaks, when the creatures of the night abandon their hidden alcoves and the smoke from the dying fire drifts upward towards the stars – only then does the old storyteller sit back in his chair, his eyes closed in remembrance. A smile spreads slowly across his weathered face, adding to the wrinkles etched around his ancient eyes. Memories of times long since past fill his thoughts, and the interlude from the recounting of lore stretches on forever in the minds of his captivated audience. The fire, only embers now, casts eerie shadows, deepening the lines on the old man’s face. The humble tenement of the storyteller is filled to capacity, with children and parents alike listening in awe to the tales of the north. They know the legend of the Star is not far off, and anticipation thrills through the thick, smoky air. The creaking of the floorboards and the low hissing of the embers are the only sounds in the room. The excitement is almost tangible.
The old storyteller seems lost in his reminiscence. Without opening his eyes, the old man quietly begins the legend.

“Long ago, before the mighty Narthazell forest was a single sapling, Amira was ruled by one man. Galdred was a mighty man, a kind king who loved his people and served them well. In return, the people loved and served him willingly. The people were free; no unjust taxes or corrupt magistrates oppressed the citizens. There were no wars waged or revolutions suppressed. Galdred’s reign was a time of continual peace throughout Amira.

“Galdred had in his charge many wise diviners and astrologers who told him of what was to come. Their advice never failed him, and he trusted in their word absolutely. These astrologers came before him one day, appearing quite troubled.
“‘My lord,’ the first astrologer said sadly. ‘There is trouble in the heavens. The stars and planets are not following their prescribed courses across the sky. We fear these changes carry a warning.’

“The second astrologer continued, ‘You see, my liege, often when there is a change in the heavens, there is a great change in the land as well. We fear the celestial alterations we have witnessed foretell a terrible war, sire.’

“Galdred was worried. His astrologers had never been wrong in times past, nor had they ever foreseen an event so catastrophic. Galdred asked, ‘What shall be given as a sign? There is always a sign, is there not?’

“The astrologers hesitated, exchanging troubled glances. Though neither wanted to admit the answer to the king’s query, Galdred’s kind words prompted them on. ‘We do not know what the sign shall be, Majesty. The heavens will not reveal this to us. We suppose that there shall be a strange event in the land, something that will be whispered throughout all Amira. This shall be the sign, we believe, but we do not know what it is, exactly, nor when it shall come.’

“Galdred was outraged. Trust worn thin by years of working in political circles, the once-benevolent king swore by heaven and earth to learn the secrets of the universe that the astrologers’ inferior divination could not teach him. In his obstinate fury and his current state of delirium he could not see the futility of his endeavor. Though he had once been a good and a kind ruler, he believed himself to be superior to those he ruled – superior enough, he believed, to know the intricacies of the cosmos, secrets that no other man knew or possibly could know. Galdred feared that his men did know something of the sign, and that they would not reveal it to him because they wanted to see him dethroned. Paranoia seized him; he suspected betrayal, deceit. His reason, emaciated by fear and mistrust, left him altogether, his benevolence relinquishing its hold on his discernment and leaving room for invidious passions which were hitherto unknown to him. He became obsessed with the impending sign and his obsession drove him mad.

“The elusive sign continued to rankle the half-crazed king. He found his imperial duties irksome and refused to converse with anyone, thus alienating an entire nation whom he had once ardently cared for. The disconsolate monarch devoted reverential care to amassing a veritable army of astrologers, seers, and diviners in hopes of deriving the obstinate omen, while he ignored many pleas on behalf of the people, who were now afflicted with every debilitating adversity and subjected to abject penury, in deepest need of succor from their king.

“The people were torn. Some worried about their once-docile ruler and what had become of him. Many magistrates debated the issue, adducing the king’s great stress and incessant exertion on their behalf as probable causes for his apparent insanity. They fervently believed Galdred to be a good man, driven to extremes by his love for his country and his people; they insisted that his craze for power, if indeed it existed, was secondary. Optimists held that his dementia was transitory and would eventually dissipate. Other subjects to Galdred’s reign of tyranny protested that his madness was not transient, that his lust for power would never be quenched, and were averse to his remaining on the throne when he was obviously lacking control of his faculties.

“Years passed in this manner, with the masses under the oppressive rule of a madman. The people feared their leader, quivering in dread at the mention of his derangement, fearing lest they should somehow invoke his wrath with a wayward muttering or a sidelong glance at one of his equally deranged officials. They lived in caution, watching that their speech could not be taken to mean disrespect to Galdred in any way. Galdred had devised a skewed system of legislature, with his hired officials – men whose sustenance depended on their collecting the abhorred taxes levied on the impoverished people – as a main constituent, causing his subjects to resort to filching and bartering simply to obtain enough to sustain themselves and their families. The enticement of their neighbor’s relative wealth was too much for many to bear, and newfound latitude of action seemed permissible, as even the vicars and priests had given up their godly ways to survive.

“The grandeur of a once-great nation was lost. One man’s greed and obsession had effectively obliterated the noble character of Amira. He had led the nation to a precipice over which he had unwittingly pushed them to their deaths; the damage was irrevocable. The mortification of the deeds Galdred had performed would have tempted any sane man, were he guilty of such crimes, to rush to the nearest promontory overlooking the ocean and take a flying leap. But Galdred was not a sane man.

“More than two decades had passed from the day of the fateful premonition. No sign had been seen, no war had been waged, and yet Amira was in shambles. The people had long since given up hope of escape from this ordeal except by Galdred’s death. Talk of rebellion had whispered through the land, but few were brave enough to challenge a demoniac monarch who had an army of devoted followers. The people were despairing.

"And then it happened; the long-awaited sign came.

“On the outskirts of the country, something strange happened. There had been a bright flash of light, reaching across the sky. The night sky appeared as bright as noon. There was a streak of green light, headed for the Theudal Mountains. And then all was dark. Even the stars had appeared to vanish from the sky; there was no moon. The green-glowing thing landed, striking the mountains and sending a ripple of ice spreading slowly across the countryside. Winter seemed to be coming early.

“Galdred at once called his finest astronomers to him. He demanded to know what had happened, what explanation they could give. Incredulous, they told him that the constellation Evander the Archer had changed. The point star, the arrow that the mighty hunter had been shooting, was no longer there. The astronomers supposed that the bright flash and ensuing streak of green light was Evander shooting his arrow at Amira. They believed they knew where it could be found, and they began to describe the scene wherein Galdred could find the star.

“Galdred had set out at once to find this fallen star, taking it to be his long-awaited sign. He took with him a small appendage of his guard, as he always did. If he could just get hold of that star he knew, instinctively, the power that it held, a power that could be his.

“He never found the star. He had forgotten the warning that came with the sign, that a great revolution would come as well. As Galdred was rushing to Theudal, pandemonium broke loose. An enormous civil war rained down upon the land. A riotous band of renegade men from various regions of Amira, deeply hating the man their king had become, crossed paths with Galdred and his guard. In that instant, the obsessed tyrant realized his own dissoluble state. Seeing he was loathed and outnumbered, Galdred fled his attackers. As he tried to escape, Galdred was slain. Amira was granted repose from his reign of terror. No dirge was sung on his behalf, no week of mourning declared as is the custom for the death of a king. Amira was free at last.”


The old storyteller, his voice gravelly from hours of speaking, pauses at this point in his narrative to sip water from the flask at his waist. Caught up in the tale, Atrianna is surprised to look around her and see, not the dark trees of the Theudal Forests, but the crude wooden walls of the storyteller’s hut and the rough plank flooring on which she is seated. She sees a child slumbering in his mother’s arms, blissfully unaware of the dark tale that is his country’s past. Atrianna knows there are only a few words left in this tale, but they are the few that send chills down her spine, and so she awaits them anxiously. The old man, the water having slaked his parched throat, continues in a hushed whisper, as if trying to convey a secret without anyone’s overhearing. He leans forward, grinning as he delivers the last lines to his enchanted audience.

“From there, the tale is as different as the people who tell it. Time has washed the details into a confused blur of opinion and speculation. Some believe there never was a Star, though there are many records of seeing the bright green flash across the sky. Those skeptics maintain that the whole legend was conjured up as a ruse to dethrone a demented king. Such cynics, however, are few and far between. Others speculate that Galdred was never killed, that he lives on, still searching for the Star. Yet others claim that the Star was found by another, and hidden away. Many believe that the Star is still buried deep within the mountains, waiting to be found by one worthy of its power. Most Amirians believe the legend, believe that the Star is still out there, waiting to be found. All it takes is a believing mind and a pure heart, and, if you are lucky, you might find the Treasured Star.”

Atrianna could feel the goose flesh crawling up her arms. No matter how many times she heard the Legend, the ending was always so thrilling. She arose from the wood floor and stretched her legs. As others around her were beginning to do the same, she could see how crowded the hut had become; it seemed as if all of Dörset had maneuvered their way into the tiny space, even the skeptics. Atrianna smiled. No one could resist the old man’s stories, no matter how many times they called him a crazy old loon.

Through her smile, she stifled a yawn. It really was getting late. She made her way out the door, headed for home and bed. As she crossed the small town square, she looked up at the clear night sky. The crescent moon was just beginning to set over the highest peaks in the west, and the stars were brilliant tonight as always. She said good night to her papa, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and climbed into bed thinking of the Legends she had heard today. As sleep overcame her, she felt a chill breeze and thought she saw a green glow in the sky. She rolled over, pulling the covers tighter about her ears, and drifted to sleep, dreaming of the Treasured Star.