The Adventures of Max and Link

  By CS Areson

  Prologue

  The Seer - Tim Lee

  The hooded and cloaked figure of Tim Lee, narrator and seer, stood in the small stone chamber. The chamber was 12 feet long and just as wide. It was carved into the wall of the cave. It had a wooden door, a cot, a chair, and items for the needs of his physical body. Most importantly was the desk with all the implements a scribe would need.

  He would be staying here for a while, as was his habit while working. This stay was different. Today, he was to find a special story. Today, he was to write what his daughter. She wanted him to hear the story of Max. He had told her part of Max’s earlier story. He had told her of the talking elephants’ younger years.

  He had told her years before about the talking elephant, about his accident, but at the time, he didn't know how the story would end. Now he was going to look, to find. Max and see if there was more to his life, more to his story.

  The seer sat at his desk and prepared his mind. Mind prepared, he gathered up his quill, dipped it into the ink, and closed his eyes for just a moment. His hand with the quill automatically went to the paper, and he began to write. The vision was clearing. He shoved away the other world that tried to enter his vision.

  “There,” the seer whispered. He could see the world, there was Max, but something. Something was very wrong. The pen paused as the shadow of the coming danger flowed over him, and to his relief, passed over him. The pen began writing, words filling the page, words that, when read by the right person, could be both marvelous and terrifying.

  Chapter 1

  Falling the Wrong Way - Max

  The Savanna’s sun beat down on the browning vegetation. Yet in the middle of the tall dying grass, there was life, everywhere. A line of elephants was walking one after another. The dominant bulls, the largest ones, were in the front, followed by the mothers and their calves.

  Max was walking behind the elephant who adopted him and whom he called Momma. Max almost walked into her as the herd slowed, for some reason Max didn’t know. He never knew since they never explained anything to him. Yes, they treated him okay, but they never spoke a word, no matter how many questions he asked. He finally gave up, but it didn’t stop the questions.

  Max’s current question was why the young elephants pushed over a tree. Yes, they ate some of the roots, but that didn’t seem as important. Once a young elephant pushed over a tree, their position in the herd changed. They no longer walked behind their mother but walked forward in the herd as it would line up. They also began looking for mates, and some left to begin their own herds.

  When father’s last calf, one Max assumed was younger than him, pushed over a tree, Max made his way to the downed tree before the herd moved on and grabbed a few roots to try them. No one stopped him, and other than having a different taste from the grasses they typically ate, there was nothing special about them. Eating the roots didn’t change his position in the herd. The herd continued to push him to his place behind his momma.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Max had tried to do the right thing. He had tried to push a tree over before but failed. He didn’t understand. As he looked over his body, he was no different from the adult bulls. His tusks had grown out, and everything inside him said he was now an adult, a young adult, but an adult. The difference was that Max was smaller than any other adult elephant, and he hadn’t pushed over a tree.

  Max was certain that it was the key. If he could find the right tree, he could finally be recognized as more than a calf who needed protection. The problem was that the trees in the savanna weren’t weak. Their roots went deep to help them in a climate that could be hostile. Max didn’t know how he knew this, but he was as sure of it as he was of his name. The trees were typically three times the size of a young bull, but for Max, who was smaller, the trees were often four or five times his height.

  The last time Max tried, he picked a very small tree. The tree was only about as big as him, seven feet tall, and was very dead. He managed to knock it over, but no one even watched. He had trumpeted his intentions as he had seen the others do, but to Max’s disappointment, the herd took one look and went back to graze.

  Today, the herd was taking a little different route to the watering hole. Max had hope that today would be the day. He had seen a tree on another walk through the area he believed he could push over. It was a large tree, rotten at the bottom, with large branches at the top, and it was dead. There were no signs of life before, and as Max spotted it now, there still was no sign of life. Max was now certain it was dead.

  “Now or never,” Max said, though no one acknowledged the words. Max broke ranks with the other elephants and walked towards the tree.

  There weren’t a lot of trees in the savanna. The savanna was filled mostly with high grasses and bushes. More trees near the small river served as their watering hole, but those were healthy and strong. This tree, as Max got closer, was exactly what he needed. The Jackal berry tree he could see had died long ago, as there were no signs of life surrounding the normally fruitful tree. The trunk was just small enough that Max could wrap his trunk at least halfway around it.

  Max let out as large a sound as he could. Though normally the other bulls responded, causing their trumpeting sound to fill the area, today they waited.

  Max didn’t let the lack of response discourage him. If he was ever going to do this, he felt it had to be today.

  Max put his head against the tree and pushed. A crack filled the air, and finally, Max heard the other elephants around him trump out. It seemed to him that they agreed today would be his day. He was going to do this rite of passage. The final action that would move Max from being considered a child, one that needed to be protected by the herd, to one that would be called on to help the herd.

  It was then that the first thing went wrong. The tree moved only a fraction further after it sounded as if it would fall, and then stopped completely. Max pushed, and it didn’t move.

  Max sighed. He looked back for a moment. One of the bulls, the one Max gave the name of Methuselah, was already turning away. It seemed Methuselah was convinced Max had failed. Max wasn’t giving up. He had a plan and would show old Methuselah that he was ready to become an adult. Max leaned into the tree, wrapped his trunk around it, and pulled. It took considerable effort, but the tree began moving back towards him. Another cracking sound filled the air, but then the tree stopped again. Max pushed, “crack.” He pulled, “crack.” Max pushed again, “crack.” He could feel it; the tree was weakening. He was going to succeed.

  And that's when everything went wrong.

  As he pulled the tree one more time toward him, the tree started to fall. Max knew he was in trouble. The tree was falling straight at him. He began to move back, but he could only move so fast. Max began thinking about all the reasons he might have done this better, and as he thought, Max paused. He paused for just a moment. That moment meant he would not get away from the largest of the branches.

  “That's your problem, you never just act,” Max said in disgust, and then the tree hit the young bull elephant. The darkness took him, and he lay on the ground surrounded by the tree he had brought down. The elephants around incorrectly saw a dying elephant and responded as they always did in a final act of compassion by moving his body into the tall grasses.

  Max awoke late in the night with his head filled with pain. Part of him felt as if he could pass out, then he remembered that he was a talking elephant, but before he could put more peices together the world grew dark around him, and he passed out.