Young Writers Society

“Everyone has heard about the legend of the Immortal King, the man of many years, a ruler and a God in his own right. This tale has been twisted and speculated for thousands of years, conspiracy and hoax clouding the real nature of his immortality.”

“It’s just a legend it can’t be true, a man that lives forever. Codswallop!”

“It sounds like a fairy-tale told to small children and pondered by adults, I know.”

“Everyone knows that he was loads of different people, when the ‘Immortal King’ gets old he passes down his regency to an apprentice. It’s the only story I’ve heard that makes any sense.”

“And I would happily believe that but I know something that you don’t.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“I’ve met him.”

“No.”

“Yes. And it’s quite a story I must say.”

The Immortal King was Lord Regent of the Qaba region, his political cunning made it quick for him to advance into the position and his harsh hand kept the people he ruled in check. He was obsessed with becoming a legend, a fantasy that plagued his dreams and haunted his mind. In an effort to fulfil his ego he sent out bards to sing songs of his bravery and valour in battle, he sent spies into his own region to tell stories and spread rumours of his apparent divinity, his immortality. To make the people adore him for his magnificence. This worked at first but only for a short time, the people were losing faith and the stories were becoming stale. He needed another option, another way to stop his nightmares.

One night his sleep was disturbed, but this was different. He awoke to find an old man at the end of his bed. An old man that spoke to him, weaved the words of wisdom he possessed and entwined sweet stories of artefacts to the king. After listening to this mysterious man his appetite for immortality became stronger and this time he wanted the real thing. This old man was a Seeker, a hunter of artefacts and hidden treasures. He spoke of a chalice that would give him eternal life, to bolster his soul and harden his skin.

A chalice that has no history, no person has seen or written anything about it. It being born before the time of men. The king in his haste took his words and hunted for this chalice, he spent his time in secrecy, employing only the most elite guards to follow him on his journey. But the Seeker had a forked tongue, his words were deceitful and his real purpose was hidden. The King was blind to his lies and followed his words like gospel until the day he found it.

“The story gets a bit hazy here.”

“Why?”

“The Immortal King was very vague about the outcome of his findings. There were no records found about his discovery and the Seeker was never spoken about again.”

“What happened?”

“I just said I don’t know.”

“Well…what do you think happened?”

“Hmm… I personally think that in the Immortal King's greed he wanted the powers for himself and being a smart and manipulative man, the traits that got him to the top, he had the Seeker killed in his sleep, he may have fallen for his honey trap at the beginning but the closer he got to finding it, the more his paranoia grew.”

“So he found the chalice?”

“Yes and the powers that it promised were true. He became eternal on that day. His body never diminished, never grew old or frail. He had Immortality at last and it tasted good. This accomplishment spread throughout the kingdom quickly, the origins of his powers being manipulated by his spies, he wanted the world to know of his Immortality but not about the chalice, in fear that others would hunt him down for it.”

“Where’s the bit where you meet him?”

“I’m getting to it.”

Year after year his reign was strong, the myth of his long life becoming truer by the decades. To protect his kingdom he vowed that Seekers were illegal in his kingdom and that they were traitors to the Lord Regent. His paranoia grew to heights he couldn’t handle, men and women killed for uttering any mention of a chalice or cup.

Decades became centuries and he realised one thing. His body may still be young but his mind was old. He was decaying from inside, he was fed up of life, nine hundred years he ruled over Qaba and the fantasy of becoming a God was draining his soul. His iron fist was becoming lighter and his fury that once fuelled him to excel was lost.

The politicians by his side knew that. They knew he was getting weaker, his rule was a farce and in their greed for power they planned to stage a coup. He knew what was happening around him, he had lived for generations, a blessing that gave him wisdom. But he could do nothing about it, the younger mind wanted to take over and relieve their withered King. But living forever as a King was better than living forever as a slave or a peasant. He couldn’t be exiled from his own kingdom, risking the tarnish of his legend.

This is when a scout returned from the Eastern Mountains with news of a possible army being built from the Shadowlands. He jumped on the opportunity to ride out into battle, the politicians not stopping him; the possibility of him not returning gave them strength and filled their stomach with joy.

“This is where I come in.”

“You were one of the soldiers that rode out with him!”

“No. I wasn’t. He only brought a group of his most trusted elites and rode out to the Eastern Mountains. His plan was to fight and die, reinvigorating his legend and cementing his legacy without tarnish.”

“I remember being told about it, ten men stood alongside the Immortal King and they fought two hundred Shadowland warriors. They fought to defend his kingdom and they died in battle but not without disparaging the invaders, the courage of these men bringing fear into the Shadowlands and preventing them from wanting to fight anymore of these fearless warriors. They saved Qaba from war that day.”

“No, they didn’t.”

“What?”

The king rode out to the Eastern Mountains and found nothing. The scout was mistaken and only a small skirmish of soldiers were found this side of the breach, they had soon left and a battle didn’t take place, the final resting place that he was looking for wasn’t found. But he couldn’t return to the Kingdom, his own brethren would take his place and his legacy would be broken. So he made a pact with his men, his ten trusted elites, men that would die so that the king could sleep soundly. He gave them one final mission and that was to protect him.

He was going to leave Qaba and their task was to shroud his disappearance with tales of courage and audacity. They sacrificed their identities and their lives to protect the King, becoming completely different people so that they could spread their own stories and rumours of what happened that night. He ordained them as the protectors of the realm, a title that would never be spoken or known about by any other person.

He escaped and lived a modest life in the mountains, hearing of this Immortal King only in passing with merchants on the path around the mountains. After years something happened, something that he couldn’t believe, he found a grey hair. And its discovery brought with it a sense of purpose and relief. This eternal power he has had for almost a thousand years was not eternal at all. It was never explained why he was mortal again, it could have been the artefact or maybe the Seekers took back their gift or maybe that to be Immortal you have to live as an Immortal.

“I passed the Eastern Mountains on my travels and found an old man sitting at the wayside. His hair was long and wild, his eyes were wrinkled and his back was crooked. He spoke to me, he invited me to sit down and listen to him. He told me everything, the true story of the Immortal King and he didn’t ask for anything and didn’t even care if I wanted to hear about it. He has lived for a thousand years in secrecy and he wanted to talk to someone and tell them the truth.”

“And then what?”

“And then he died.”

“Huh?”

“He died, he finished talking and his eyes closed and then he was gone. At the time I didn’t believe him, I mean it could have been a crazy man with a crazy story. But I saw something that I wasn’t expecting; as I left I looked back and saw several men, pick his body up off the ground. It intrigued me and I watched closer. They buried him under the mountains and stood around his grave in a circle. I thought it was very odd at the time and moved closer to get a better look. They were wearing armour, gold plated and regal in its nature, they were old also and they stood over him in silence, hands to their chests. One of them placed something into the grave and they left.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t know, I was too afraid to have a look and it was getting dark and I had to make shelter.”

“Have you ever been back there?”

“Yes, once, but I found nothing, there was no grave and no markings on the ground. The grave was gone and so was the Immortal King. I have regretted that decision not to go back to his grave that day for years.”

“So that’s the real story of the Immortal King?”

“Yes, and I know it to be true.”

“But he wasn’t really Immortal. He died like the rest of us.”

“No you’re wrong. The Immortal King will never be forgotten, his story is still spoken about to this day, he has become part of the world’s history. The one thing that I remember most that he said was the very last thing he uttered. ‘To live forever is to be cursed, to be remembered forever is to be Immortal.’