Lacuna - N.R. Walker Page 0,3

birthmark had begun to burn. And Tancho knew then, the day he’d trained for had come.

Tancho ran his fingertips over the birthmark, feeling the warmth of the burn. He was barely able to ignore it, even with meditation and well-practised mind control. Even thrusting his arm into cold water had not lessened the heat of it. “It burns still,” Tancho replied. “I expect it will get worse the closer we get.”

The birthmark itself appeared as it always had: dark against his pale skin, and in the distinct shape of a koi fish. It was his symbol, it was his marking, his destiny. Marked by fate, like all four rulers of the four kingdoms. Tancho had studied all he could on the other three, though there wasn’t much to be told.

Eastlands was a kingdom covered by sand dunes and desert-dwelling people. Their queen was a woman by the name Samiel. A tall fierce woman with a birthmark of the desert winds on her wrist.

The King of Southlands was Elmwood. Lands covered by forests and jungle and a tree birthmark on his wrist, he was said to be the size of an elm, though Tancho was sure that was an over-exaggeration. After all, Tancho was named after a fish, but he certainly didn’t resemble one.

The last was Crow, King of the Northlands.

And out of the three other kingdoms, Tancho was fascinated with the Northlands the most.

He couldn’t fathom living in a land three-quarters ice and mountains. The people had to be resilient and hard, cunning and strong. They didn’t just survive in abominable conditions; they thrived.

Tancho could only deduce that Crow would be large in stature and as hard as the alps he called home.

Though if the rumours were true, Crow was a fair and good king, well-liked by his people, and Tancho admired him for that. He too was a fair ruler—as were all rulers of the four lands. There had been twenty-five years of peace across all countries. All trade agreements were mediated through the Aequi Kentron, the island-centre joining all four lands. Everything was equal amongst them.

Each country shared a border with two others but had never had a qualm or quarrel. The Elders’ Consul governed and had done since time immemorial. And did so very well.

“Tancho?” Karasu asked. “Is something the matter?”

“No.” Apart from the fact his benign birthmark now burned under his skin and his path as king, which had once spread out before him like the oceans to the west, now hung over him like storm clouds.

“You do not wish to leave?”

“I must. Even with my choice removed, I still long to fulfil my destiny. Is this not what we have dreamed about since we were young?”

Karasu gave him a confused smile. “Then why do you still sit here? The sun is risen and the horses are ready. Kohaku will be wondering if something’s wrong.”

Tancho smiled and rose fluidly to his feet. “Then let us go.”

They walked through the quiet halls of his palace to where Kohaku waited impatiently with three horses. “You do realise that breakfast was so long ago, I’ll be hungry again before we’re outside the city,” Kohaku said as he hauled his hulking frame up into the saddle.

Karasu rolled her eyes and took the reins of her horse and swung herself up on it. “You’re always hungry,” she argued fondly. “I hope your saddlebag is well-stocked.”

Ignoring their constant banter, Tancho went to the grounds’ edge where a stone wall met water at the side of the palace. He knelt and put his hand into the water, letting his fingers trail through the cool surface, feeling the power and the serenity of it. He would miss this, no matter how long he would be gone for. Be it half a moon or two full moons, he would miss his home.

With a quiet bow of his head, he took one last moment to ask for the strength to do what was on the path before him. Then he rose and found Karasu and Kohaku watching him. He gave a nod, and without any effort at all, he pulled himself up onto his horse.

He turned back to the palace to find his guards, his council, his staff, standing in a long line. “We trust your safe return,” Asagi said with a bow of his head. Asagi was a Westlands elder, a trusted mentor who had been like a father to Tancho. Asagi would never say a farewell tribute like ‘good luck’ or ‘fight well’ because