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@joelle-stone @denali-Christianson

Here’s the first chapter of my WIP. Enjoy!

 

Chapter 1

 

This is the story of a Great King, and a not so great king. One who is perfect, and one who is not. One king dressed in brilliant robes and august glory, the other in filthy rags. One at the mercy of the other.

Ah, but I get ahead of myself. How can I tell a tale, while starting in the middle of the story? So, I shall start my tale at the beginning.

The beginning was long, long ago, but not so long as you may think. The world was dark, the earth empty. Only one word described the state of the universe: Atrimüs. Chaos. Dark and violent chaos.

But suddenly, a single word spoken by the Great King, whom I have mentioned before, reversed this chaos.

Escaläs. Light. Not any sort of light either, but the beautiful kind, the kind that makes you fall on your knees in wonder, the kind that makes the miser sing, or the pompous man humble. The kind that brings joy to the humble heart, and sustenance for the weary. The kind of light that no matter where you are, it stays inside of you, and leads you on, no matter the darkness around you.

With Escaläs came life. Life, beautiful and abundant.

The centerpiece of this life was a man, named Estenrôs. Estenrôs was the to be the king over all the world, and ruler of the life the Great King had made. Estenrôs was to be regent over the earth, the representative of the Great King.

How quickly that golden age fell, however, as soon thereafter, Estenrôs was inflated with pride, and was deceived. He claimed equality with the Great King, challenging his power.

With a quick strike, the Great King humbled Estenrôs, and doomed his descendants to be exiled kings, ruling over a dark land, teeming with the spawn of evil, and to always desire to steal each other’s kingdoms.

And so we come the subject of our story. Generations down from Estenrôs, we meet his heir, the King Abner. Abner’s story shall be revealed over time; for now, let us delve into the tale.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Abner gazed at the dark sky above. Not a beam of light shone through. He smiled. Good. Light can be too…illuminating.

The dark provided security for Abner, as for everybody else. As well as security, it promised rain that would feed the crops, that would feed the people.

It wasn’t that Abner did enjoy light, it was just that the sun’s light was usually a little too harsh and burning.

Abner turned, cape swishing, and he made his way out of the balcony, and into a granite hall. The cold grey stone was originally a mountain, and Abner’s great-grandfather Dallin carved the great city of Dallinor into the stone.

Dallinor was the gem of the north, as was Abner’s kingdom, Arhon. All of the surrounding nations coveted his wealth, and that made Abner happy.

He stole into a great room, whose ceiling sloped inwards, until it stopped, allowing a round beam of the grey light from the sky in. This was Abner’s favorite room. He walked to a small pool of water in the exact center, and gently dipped his hands in the rose-colored liquid. After washing his hands, he dipped water into the bowl of his palm, and rubbed the water into his eyes. Reciting the chant he had been taught as a small boy, his voice echoed off the walls, barely audible.

“Etras eyrtu mesad metor.”

He looked up expectantly and smiled, watching the process he knew so well.

A mist rose from the pool, and rose into the air, up and up, until it vanished against the grey cloud. Suddenly, the cloud parted, and made way for a dark sky. Stars shone above, and were reflected off the pool. The room darkened, and the only light visible were the stars themselves.

Abner gazed upwards, spread his arms, and slowly turned round and round. With the room almost completely dark now, it seemed as though the stars were in the room with him, or rather that he was with them.

He twirled, his robe flitting around his figure, eyes ever upward, until slowly the effects wore off, and the room became light again, the sky grey as ever.

Though Abner was not fond of the sun’s light, deep inside of him, he craved light of some kind, and so he looked to the stars. The stars were the closest he came to light, without him having to be uncomfortable in a blazing, burning fire that the sun was.

He sighed, and slowly walked out of the room. For a short while the stars made him happy, but he always left dissatisfied.

 

 

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Later that same evening, Abner sat in his luxurious room, watching the fire crack and pop in it’s place against the smooth, stone wall. He sat in a chair of fine mahogany, smoking a pipe, and stroking his chin.

He accepted a cup of hot coffee from a servant, who bowed and exited the room.

After supping with his mother, Diane, and his fiancé, Lorraine, he had come to his room to relax before bed. Nervous energy coursed through him, anticipating the next day. He was to hold his first war council as king.

He had received the throne three years prior when his father died of illness. The war councils were held every five years, and this year was the fifth year since the last. He had neither been to one before, nor did he expect what should happen, thus did the energy flow from his head to his toes, although the coffee greatly increased the aforementioned excitement. He sipped, and gazed at the fire, and for a long time he kept the pattern of sip and gaze, sip and gaze, until he had quite outworn the energy within him. He slowly placed the cup on a small table, and stood, stretched, and sleepily made his way to bed.

He fell asleep quickly, but it was not a restful sleep. Dreams came to him, and in his mind’s eye he saw a mountain. A great mountain. A mountain with a great light coming from the top.

Abner tried to climb the mountain, but to no avail, for it’s slope was slick with black grime. The light seemed infinitely far away, and he had not even made it up ten yards.

Suddenly, lightning came from the top of the mountain, and consumed him.

The fright of the vision caused him to wake, a cold sweat covering his body. He slowly calmed his breathing, and after some time chuckled, and thought to himself, Abner, you silly! Getting worked up at a dream? Get a hold of yourself!

He laid his head back on the pillow, and closed his eyes. But though he tried, sleep eluded him.

Finally he rolled out of bed, and he slipped on a thin jacket over his sleeping tunic. He walked out of his room, down the cold halls, never making a sound. Grey light seeping in from the windows caught his attention, and he curiously made his way out to the east balcony.

The clouds had parted, making way for the cold light of the moon. He gazed up at it, his body chilled by the cool breeze that slithered across the plains of Tiris.

Before he could think, a dark hood was at his right side, and he jumped. The figure pulled it’s hood back to reveal Jethro, the Royal Magi, the man whom the king went to in matters of wisdom, interpretations, and appeasing their god, Galrath.

“What do the skies say, Jethro?” Abner asked grimly, staring into the dark, cold hole that was space.

“The skies are veiled, mighty king. I know not what to make of it.” He paused, as if debating whether to speak further, then he continued.

“I sense a disturbance, however. The offerings to Galrath have been doubled, yet to no avail. The skies remain dark, yet the rain does not come. Perhaps it will before the season comes and goes, but who is to say? It is almost as if—” Here he stopped, and bowed his head.

Abner looked at him, a curious look in his eye. Jethro was not one to be easily frightened, but that was the only emotion his face displayed, and it drove Abner to inquire.

“What, Jethro? What is happening?”

Jethro was quiet for some time. Then he turned, with a look of fright, but also wonder, in his eyes.

“My king, it is as if a…a greater power is demanding our attention.”

Abner’s eyes widened, and he puzzled over this statement.

“But Jethro, Galrath is the god of kings and dominions. What deity could possibly challenge him?”

Jethro swallowed. “It could only be if it was…indeed it would have to be,” Jethro paused for effect, “a King of kings.”