1:The Prince and the Woods

            

The woods were as quiet as the haunted hills that Stryder feared for most of his childhood. He had woken up feeling his best, but the day had turned out to be pretty bad. Complaining would do him no good, the Priest Federation already had problems with the Kingdom. Returning without something on an auspicious hunt day would spoil the image he and his family had. 
There was no wind to make the flag that hung by the back of his saddle flutter. An impression of the castle which belonged to Stryder's grandfather, or had belonged to him was embedded into it. Some said that Bold Castle that was embedded on King Cyneburg's flag was lost somewhere in near Lakelixir, some had suggested it lay somewhere in White Sands. That was a territory that his family had lost in the previous war, or was it the war before that? Stryder could not care less about the past. King Cyneburg, his father was not heard of since he had left the Peace Conference. The only reason Stryder remained seated on the throne was the support of the Defense forces along with that of the Elemental Guard and the Priest Federation.

It was very hot and Stryder’s T-shirt started sticking to his back. His long dark hair seemed to prick his skin on the back of his neck. It was sad how things that you loved could very well hurt you.

He whistled, a guard came up to him. All of them wore plain clothes, as his mother had instructed him. Giving the people the feeling that a Prince was not comfortable in his own kingdom would be seen as a good move.

"What were my mother's instructions?"

"Do not return empty handed." The guard answered, his hand on his sword. He was well dressed, grey-gold sweater on a sport t-shirt. With a clean shave and crop cut, he probably looked more of a prince than Stryder did.

"You are one of the Elite Guard aren't you?" Stryder asked, popping a piece of gum from the pocket of his riding jeans.
"Affirmative, Prince Stryder."
"How many of you are there?" Stryder leaned forward on his saddle.
"About eight more, three silent followers." The man lowered his head, probably aware of what was going to follow.
"Then why can't a single one of you find any animal in a forest which is supposed to be full of them?" Stryder shouted. The man opened his mouth but did not say anything. "Get going, tell mother I will be back soon, and here," Stryder took off his giant sword. "Get this to my brother, do not let anyone touch it."
As Stryder took it off to give it to the man, he nearly fell of the horse taking off the sword. Even the man looked harassed by its weight. Stryder swept the sweat off his brow, and pushed back his long hair. "Cross-bow." He shouted again.
The same man he gave his sword to, gave him a blazing red cross-bow with neon accents. Stryder tilted his head to one side. "Come on man, how much do you hate your job? And if you answer that question, I swear I will push you off to some security force in the far East."
"Sorry, Prince Stryder." The man had his head bowed, soon he managed to get another one. It was grey, olive and a bit broken around the edges. "It is a bit old, but works like a new one."
Stryder accepted the cross-bow, trying not to fall off. That one was as heavy as the previous one. There was a quiver on the back of the horse, Stryder took out three arrows and carefully attached them to the cross bow, throwing the rest away.
"Tell mother I will be back by midnight."

It was way past midnight, that didn't matter. The woods retained their darkness in each hour of the day. Some found the omnipresent earthly hue comforting, while some found nothing else as uncomfortable as it. Stryder still hadn't caught anything of interest. Why do I have to be so arrogant? he rubbed his eyes with his left hand, resting his cross-bow on his right shoulder.
He saw something moving, he wasn't sure if he had been hallucinating. Carefully aiming for the dark trees where he thought he had seen something move about. There was a noise, somewhere to his right. His head bolted to the right, shoulders following in the same direction.
It was a white stag, a good omen. He kissed the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand. One hand on the trigger, another one on the bottom of the front portion, Stryder sucked his breath in. He was about to release the trigger when someone knocked the life out of his back. Stryder arched his back as he turned his head - to find an old woman standing right behind him with a staff in her hand.
He gave her a scowl, that would have otherwise melted an official, but it was to no effect. "What exactly are you trying to do with that face boy?" The woman hit Stryder again on the waist, "get down boy. Hasn't anybody taught you that you should not to talk to a lady on the ground while you are mounted?"
Stryder gave a laugh, "the lady of where?"
"Someplace important, that is for sure." The woman came forward, snatched Stryder's cross-bow while her other hand pulled Stryder off the horse. "What is this, eh? These are the parts of the Sanctuary, with who's permission did you bring a weapon in here?" She had dropped the cross-bow , but her other hand twisted Stryder's right hand.
"Leave me, I am Prince Stryder, heir of King Cyneburg." At that instant the old woman left his hand. Stryder smiled, his father's name could do wonders. When Stryder looked up, he noticed the woman's face properly for the first time. She stood as if she was old, but her face held a kind of power, her eyes radiated a light of its own. The strange thing was that Stryder was not able process the woman's face. It was if there was a face, but Stryder was seeing right through it except for her eyes.
"Who are you?"
"Someone important, didn't you get it the first time? How is Cyneburg doing these days?" The woman kept Stryder's cross-bow back on his horse's saddle.
"He is lost."
"Lost, eh? Never thought he would ever get lost with all of that fancy star-gazing art that he learnt."
"The stars are of no use to someone in the Plains. He had gone to meet and offer his congratulations to the new King of the Plain. Most say that the Plain Folk have him, some say he died fighting them, some say he is at sea. There are a thousand versions to a thousand versions."
"Cyneburg would walk to his pyre rather than riding a boat." She giggled a little in half old woman, half lunatic manner. At that moment, Stryder felt as if someone had turned the lights on, which died as soon as the old woman stopped laughing.
"You are not human, are you?"
"I am many things, but better known as Getricia."
"Getricia? As in the Mother?" Stryder gasped in amazement. "You must be kidding." He stepped back, threw back his head and gave a smirk.
"Am I?" The woman's eyes turned red. "You better guard your tongue."
"I am sorry, I...I am in a tough situation. I have to return to my castle with a catch to show off." Stryder's shoulders dropped.
"I see, for the Priest Federation, am I right?" She asked, Stryder hung his hand. "Now it makes sense."
"What makes sense?"
"Something important." Getricia smiled. "There is something better than a dead white stag."
"What?" Stryder asked, puzzled. "A dragon?" Getricia hit Stryder hard on his legs. He almost collapsed, but was saved by his horse.
"A live white stag." she whistled, in a voice lighter than the rustling of the wind. But within moments, the stag was right before her, kneeling. It was massive, almost as big as Stryder's horse. She rubbed his finger along its head. The stag went over to Stryder the next instant. "You have to get back Stryder, there are people waiting for you."
Stryder got on his horse, the woman got on the stag. He rode a few feet ahead of her, as a mark of respect. Just as they were on the edge of the forest, civilization right before their eyes, Getricia spoke once again. 
"Stryder, the most horrendous year of your life lies ahead. You might think that it is a mortal matter, but you will represent and execute for a few of the most important beings in the Realm. My children and their children and their children are going to war, a war which has its fait resting in the hands of mortals. I do not mind which side you chose, but do not cower Stryder, no even when hope seems too futile an option." Her voice faded away.
Stryder looked back, but there was nothing except for the stag, which ran forward to Stryder. He looked at the woods, not sure if he had been showered with blessings or trouble.

Prologue

"It is something in the air Fendrel, I am sure it is," the Commander told Fendrel. "You know, the monotony of plain waves that precede a huge hit." He stood in the way of the torch that lighted the frontier bastion of the castle that Fendrel had been stationed at.
      The roof of the portcullis was really cold, Fendrel shivered twice, hugged him self and lowered himself to a barrel. Nights in the North Deserts were supposed to be as cold as the ones in damnation.

     "It must be so sir." Fendrel squeaked. The Commander was from the Broken Lands, a towering man of six and a half stones, his face covered in a perfectly trimmed beard that looked to good to be artificial. Fendrel was a wandered and had been enlisted in the North Deserts Guard Corps against his wish. 

     Still he had risen to captain, but that was no good. When promoted to the much envied position of captain, one would often rejoice for nothing would lie ahead except for fat files on expensive desks.That was not the case for the Guard Corps, they would be stationed on the ridges and rises of the kingdom, on the shores and coves, anywhere within the territory of King Cyneburg.

     There was a sharp screech, the Commander had taken out his sword, examining it in the low light. 

"It is just amazing how they have advanced Fendrel. A hundred years ago, we were almost primitive, we fought with nothing but un-capacited swords made of Copper. Do you know why we add streak capacitors to swords Fendrel?"

      "No Sir. I do not." Fendrel did not bother to speak more than ten words per answer.

      "Carbo-Copper in reality does not have Carbon or Copper. It is actually named so for it exhibits the desirable properties of both the elements. An adept once told me that Carbo-Copper in its true form is a substance so sinister that if it is not controlled, it will consume everything within its reach. Streak Capacitors are needed to control the extent to which we let the Carbo-Copper disintegrate the environment that it surrounds."

      "I was told something similar, but how is it that when the capacitor breaks the sword becomes useless instead of becoming more powerful?"

      The Commander laughed, that mad Fendrel shrink a bit. "Carbo-Copper is more expensive than the rarest of red rubies. What we use, rather what most soldiers use is one part carbo-copper with other metallic blends,"
       "You use the pure form don't you sir?"
        The Commander had just opened his mouth when the familiar Ivory Horn trumpeted loudly. A Pink lizard Horn countered it, twice.
       "Told you, something in the air." The Commander smiled, donning his heavy armor. "If I see you once more Fendrel - I hope we meet on this side." The Commander's round eyes shined with blood lust as he covered them with his helmet before riding out.

The hour that followed was nothing but a living nightmare. The enemy, whoever they were, had ringed into them from the front and the west. The east and he back portion were protected just because they were surrounded by cliffs that were as high as nine hundred feet.
         Their sheer number was enough to make anyone flee, the only reason everyone stayed was there was nowhere to flee to. Fendrel saw men die everywhere, at every station.
        Fendrel knew the end had come when the enemy had managed to set alight the West wing. Now all that remained of the Corps was ten men except for Fendrel, who were in no position to fight. That was the reason, as acting commander of forces, Fendrel had locked them behind a hidden trapdoor in the keep of the castle.
       Gripping a new sword in his hand, Fendrel braved himself enough to a room on the ground floor where he thought he had heard footsteps when he was moving the last of the injured soldiers. When he pushed the door, he found the man he needed the most and expected the least - the Commander.
     "Fendrel," the captain exclaimed. He was looking out of the window as if there was nothing special about that night, that hour,
         "Who are they sir?"
       "Bloody Plain folk. The Pink Lizard horn is their peculiarity. Is there any survivor? Any fighter?"
        "No fighters, but there are some survivors. I hid them behind  the trapdoor in the keep. What do we do now?" There was a long sullen silence.
       "Do you trust me?" The Commander smiled, as a examiner would smile in front of a student who was as enlightened as a cow.
        It a while for Fendrel to answer that. "Yes Sir."
        "Then I need you to go out that window."
       Without even asking the reason, Fendrel went out of the window. The Commander followed him. "You must obey me now Fendrel." The commander breathed on the back of Fendrel's neck. "I need you to run the first chance you get, and talk to no one about you. The actions that I will now take will be as Commander and you will help in making my plan a by running as fast as you can."
        "What will you do now, sir?"
        "I surrender." The Commander shouted. Within minutes all the enemy forces had surrounded them. The Commander demanded to talk to their leader, only to find that there was none. It was in the next moment that Fendrel heard from the Commander what he had never heard before, although he had known it.
         "I am a Secondary. One of you, follow me and I shall take you to our true leader."
     Everything was happening beyond the speed of Fendrel's comprehension. They asked the Commander some questions that only a Secondary would know the answers to. Then, like sheep they assembled and headed towards the West Wing. The Commander had told them not to bind Fendrel, but simply tie his hand to a tree.
         Now the Commander was leaving with the procession. Just when they were near the armory, nine hundred feet away from Fendre lthe Commander shouted, "Remember Fendrel, there is nothing as deadly as pure Carbo-Copper."
           It was a long distance, but the Commander's words carried. It was  with those words, that blast that Fendrel experienced the true meaning of the word Power.
     


   

Pilot Post

About me

Greetings, lords and peasants, I am Aditya R Chaudhary, otherwise known as Arkus Quicksylver. I bring to you this blog in hopes of spreading my just short of splendid writing wherever the Sun shows its face (or rays). While I can not ensure that you will not waste your time by reading the stuff that is uploaded on the blog, I am pretty sure you will enjoy this.

About the blog. 

The blog will feature posts every Sunday (One Chapter) and Tuesday (Preview or query answer or corrections). Obviously, first chapter will always be pinned on the first page. Today (18 August) will feature nothing. I am always fishing for compliments but criticism is more welcome.