Fiction

The Queen and the Messenger chapter 1

by Lynae Fisher 
10/08/24
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                Clang!  Clang!  The bells pealed out to call the people of Jereal, the capital of Sammarrooda, together.  The ground shook with the drumming of feet as the people ran eagerly to the city square.  Historian had come to speak to them.  How long they had look forward for this day!  He had promised to come and now the bells were ringing to call the people to see him. 

“People of Sammarrooda, harken to my words!  You have been brought out of the nations to be a free people, a light to the rest of the world.  The odds were against you, but you prevailed in spite of odds.” he spoke in a loud commanding voice for all to hear.

The people remembered how they had come together and fought for freedom.  Those rulers who had held them captive for so long had tried desperately to stop them from escaping their bondage, but somehow they had survived.  It had not been easy.  The armies that came against them far outnumbered them.  The Sammarroodans had just been workers and farmers, but their enemies had trained armies.

“All the world was against you and what you stand for, but you now stand tall above all those who resisted you.  Remember your calling!  Remember why you cried out against your masters!  Remember why you left and who brought you out of the many lands from which you came!  Remember the struggle of the journey, yet your willingness to endure for the promise of this new land and free life!  Remember the secret of your great strength.  Always remember.  Teach your children the history of your beginning that they may remember.  If you remember and hold true to your purpose, you will remain strong and unconquerable for generation upon generation.  All the nations will fear you and you will have peace in the land.  But if you forget and fall away from the truth, your strength will wane and your blessings perish.”

Historian had brought them together and taught them how to fight.  With his help, they had driven back their enemies and settled in land unmarred by disease which had so often plagued the old land, free from the tyranny of greedy rulers over taxing them, and unblemished by the pagan temples and religions that had threatened their worship.  It was a beautiful land, green and lush.  Jereal, their capital city, was built high on a hill surrounded by lush green slopes watered by the river that poured out of the hilltop in the center of the city.  Whatever tasks they took up met with great success as they built their thriving new land.  Historian had helped them to establish their flourishing new land.  Their defense stood strong, their cities beautiful, their crops plentiful, and their borders sure.  No enemy dared lift a finger against them.  They feared nothing.  While they listened to the words of Historian, trouble was a myth and war a legend.  Famine and disease were mocked as fairytales. 

                The people of Sammarrooda enjoyed great blessing for a time, but they failed to take care that the blessings be preserved.  They allowed evil workers to sneak into the land and gain power.  They did not hold their ground when enemies from within brought false accusations against their great land.  When others condemned the truth and belittled that great land, they deserted the thing that had made them great.  When pagan worshipers hurled lies and horrible accusations at Historian, the people abandoned him.  Slowly but surely, the greatness of the land slinked away.  Growing lazy, the people failed to tell their descendants the secret of their greatness.  They did not encourage them to do right. After a time, a new generation arose that had no knowledge of right, and who followed after evil. 

                As they turned away from what was right, the words of Historian denounced them.  Guiltily, they began to dread his words and they no longer wished to hear them.  The sound of pattering feet grew quieter and quieter when the bells rang to call the people to meet him.  At last, the bells ceased to toll for him at all.  Soon they ceased welcomed him in their cities.  It became a dangerous thing to speak of him.  His words were like daggers to their hearts. 

                Allowed by the people, the rulers of the nation had begun to do more and more wickedly.  Indeed, they each competed for the title as the worst ruler of the land's history.  The people seemed eager to follow their example.  Good and right were cast aside as things of the past.  Who really cared about laws?  Nay, each decided what was right for them—rather what they wanted to be right.  Their current monarch was not content with the way things were going, and desired such greater evil that even Sammarrooda shuddered at it. 

                Heartless, evil, friend of darkness.  Of all rulers, she was most malevolent.  Beautiful, perhaps, but rotten to the core.  Such was the wicked queen.  Within her spacious palace, Athaliah greedily horded the wealth of her kingdom, which she stole from the best of all that the people produced.  Ruthlessly, anyone who dared to oppose her was extinguished at once.  Pagan worship was her pastime, and murder was her sport.  A few people in that troubled land spoke against her deeds, but they were demolished.  No one dared stand against her.  She was evil.  She was vicious.  No good dwelt with her.  As a result, the land began to fell into decay worse than it had ever seen before.

                Historian tried to send messengers to warn her to turn from her wicked ways, but she maliciously killed them all.  Any word against her deeds was counted treason.  The chief temple of her idol worship she built high and strong.  The wealth stolen from the people she used to set up idols and encourage evil practices everywhere.  Blood flowed because of her.  The innocent were slain as guilty and the guilty hailed as heroes.  They called good evil and evil good.  The once good land of Sammarrooda became indistinguishable from the evil lands around.  Perhaps it grew even worse than they were.