Chapter 1
The darkness of night was closing in on the mountain. The air was filled with the smell of rain. Dark clouds swirled above the stone fortress, where the battle began to rage on. An evil magic was at work in the air.
The king looked over his shoulder, and out of the corner of his eye, saw a Dalphèdor swinging his axe down towards his legs. He jumped up immediately and then twirled around with his thick, broad sword, knocking the Dalphèdor down. Taking advantage of the brutes fumble, he drove the sword down through its breastplate and killed it. Black blood squirted out onto the pavement.
The king stood up and cleaned his sword. He looked over towards the mouth of the canyon from which the Dalphèdors were coming, and saw a huge catapult-like contraption being hauled toward the stone gates by large Baldyerhuses.
“Oh…” the king groaned out. He jogged back up terrace steps and then up to a platform where his warlords were planning attacks. The battle raged on about them.
“The Dalphèdors are obviously planning to invade the villages bellow, as we can tell by the groups being sent down there,” overheard the king as he came to the top.
The lord that had just stated this looked up and said, “Oh there you are. We have contacted the lower villages, and the Rockthaar Delyhuso. The Rockthaar replied to us and said that they too were under an attack and warding off Dalphèdors.”
“Where are all these Dalphèdors coming from?” said the king, not really wanting or needing an answer. “So the Rockthaar has been under attack too? Well, what do you suggest?” The king felt a wave of panic cover him as he realized that if the enemy took the Rockthaar Delyhuso, this obvious war would soon end in the enemy’s advantage.
“After concluding the risk of leaving the Rockthaar to fend for themselves,” began a lord with long purple robes, “we’ve decided to send a few battlements to ensure their survival.” The lord said his words with faith and seemed to believe that this decision was going to work best. “What say you?”
“Uh…” the king hesitated as he considered this, “Um, yes, carry out the plans. Send one of the bats as the messenger. It can blend in well with the night.” The king turned around and saw a group of Dalphèdors approaching with large swords that surpassed even his.
“Fly! Fly all of you!” he screamed at the lords, “This is no place for untrained men.” He grunted and then charged the Dalphèdors head on and knocked most of them down the stairs. They piled up in a heap of flesh at the bottom, dead.
The king looked up and saw that one of the Dalphèdors was still hanging on to the side of the railing. His pale, grey fingers were holding on for dear life. His red eyes were filled with fear as he saw the king approach him.
The king walked up to the brute and asked, “Who’s your master?” There was a long pause. The Dalphèdor looked about and didn’t say anything. The king restated, “Who is your master?” This time he said it stern. The Dalphèdor opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a metal arrow pierced through head face. Someone had shot him from behind.
The king looked down and saw a caped figure walking away with a black, steal bow in his hands. The figure looked ominous and dangerous all at once.
The king looked about and yelled at two soldiers to follow the ominous man, and hopefully capture him. The king wanted to question the hooded man, if they won the battle. He was obviously protecting the identity of the mastermind behind the attack.
The king ran off to join some soldiers warding off a strong group of heavily armed Dalphèdors.
In the middle of the palace, deep in the stone corridors, a cry rang out through the halls. It belonged to a little girl. She was afraid of the loud noises outside of her balcony window.
After a while, a boy about the age of 17 came rushing into the room. He was garbed with blue robes and purple sashes. Upon his head he wore a crown, one fit for a prince. He was indeed the king’s son, Prince Alerstark. His skin was darker than usual, almost tan, unlike the rest of his family, and his hair was black. But most odd of all, he had blue eyes. It fit him very well.
The prince picked up the little girl and whispered, “Shh, shh, shh, shh. Don’t worry Ane. It’s time to go. A soldier is here to take us down to the tunnels. We’ll be safe there.” He pulled the girl close to his chest and wrapped a blanket around her.
Once the girl seemed ready, he stormed out of the room and into the hall. It was empty besides the soldier waiting for him. It was gloriously furnished and tiled beautifully. They stood in the great hall of the palace. Tall pillars loomed up on each side, and down at the front of the hall stood two stone doors, that were left open. Through the doors you could see a courtyard of stone, and a wall surrounding it. Screams and yells echoed from behind the wall.
“Shh shh,” comforted the prince as the girl began to cry. He then directed his attention to the soldier and asked, “How close are they?” He wanted to know how close the Dalphèdors were to the palace.
“There are a few hundred down at the main gates. They’re fighting their way up as we speak,” replied the soldier.
“Well, why are you here?” asked the prince, “You should be out there. Helping shouldn’t you?” He gave the little girl to the soldier and stooped down to pick up some of his bags he had on the floor. He waited for the soldiers reply but cut him off, “Just go, I don’t need an escort. I’m sure I can find the rest of my family somewhere in-”
But before he could finish, a loud whistle filled the air, and then the next thing they knew, the marble wall crashed down in front of them, fallowed by a loud noise rumbled through the air. The prince, little girl, and the soldier all fell down and escaped death by an inch. Screams echoed from within the palace, and people started bustling about the now ruined hall.
A large bolder had broken through the wall. It had abruptly stopped before it rolled over the prince, the little girl, and the soldier. They then stood up and looked about. The complete front wall of the palace was in ruins. Dust filled the air and made it hard to see anything.
The prince stood up, looked about and saw the little girl, rolled up in a ball on the ground crying. He moved some ruble and picked her up off the ground. He comforted her, but her crying didn’t stop.
He then looked up and coughed. He could barely see anything through the dust. Then, off in the distance, he could make out a few little lights floating about. The lights grew brighter as loud war cries rang throughout the air.
The prince then realized the lights must be the Dalphèdors’ torches. He tightened his grip around the little girl as he realized it was they, and charged out, away from the Dalphèdors. Running for his life and the little girl’s life, he somehow made it through the dust and past a group of hulking Dalphèdors without them knowing it.
Searching desperately for two torchlights through the dust, knowing that the tunnels would be close to them, he ran faster as another whistling sound filled the air. He dove back behind a ruined staircase just before a loud cracking sound emanated from far off. Dust and rock flew up against them, cutting and bruising them in a few spots. By then, the prince was sure that the little girl had passed out.
He got up again and ran further away from the battle. Finally spotting the two torchlights, he sprinted towards them and found the cave entrance that led down to the tunnels. He flung open some vines that covered its entrance and then breathed a sigh of relief once they were in the quiet of the cave.
Grabbing a torch off the wall, he quickened his pace down a long staircase carved out of the stone. Moss had grown over giving it a soft and light covering for his bare feet. The tunnel he was in reverberated the loud noises outside. Its walls were covered with water, dripping from above cracks, spiderwebbing this way and that. A creaking sound also emanated through the tunnel.
The tunnel was unique, different than most. It was carved out miraculously right underneath the Mighty River that poured out from the mountain. Its water fell down into the palace’s back courtyard and then made its long way down the side of the mountain and throughout he villages below.
The prince finally came to the bottom of the stair, and found himself looking down a long stone hall with fire blazing along the sides. People scurried about within it, running here and there, some with swords, others with armor. It was the Inner Hall. All the tunnels connected to it. Serving as Elèndæ’s mighty fortress, it provided a pretty safe environment when the empire was under attack.
The prince looked down and then saw a woman giving other women orders. She was his mother, the queen. She had been assigned to make sure the women were ready to act as nurses to the wounded. She was doing her job well. She had only done this particular job twice before when two armies tried to attack them.
The prince stopped daydreaming, and watching all the people. He turned and descended a stair to his right and was greeted immediately by a maidservant. She extended out her hands and took the girl from his arms and said, “Oh my goodness, is she alright?”
“Yes she’s fine,” he replied, “She just went unconscious up there.”
“Oh, well I’ll give her to your mother immediately,” the maidservant said. She then turned and made her way towards the queen with the girl in her hands.
“Alerstark!” the prince heard come from behind him.
He turned around and saw one of the army generals. The prince sighed and then said, “General Addon, how many times have I told you to call me ‘Alex’?!”
“My apologies sir,” said the general, “but that’s not important now. I have come to take you to the tunnels close to the Mighty River. The Dalphèdors are breaking through over there, and they need as many men over there as possible,” the prince began to protest, but was cut off, “I know you’re a good swordsman, come now, hurry up.”
The prince hesitated, then fallowed the general. The general took him through a door that locked being them as it swung shut, and then up some stairs. At the top of the stairs, a door opened up to a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, a loud banging sound could be heard. Rocks fell when the banging sound erupted. The Dalphèdors must be on the other side, the prince thought, trying to break in.
Before he knew what was going on, he had a helmet and armor placed on his chest and body, with his sword at his side. Soldiers were rushing everywhere. He looked over and saw his father tightening a strap over his shoulder.
“Father?” he said.
His father glanced up at him and smiled. Giving the strap one last tug, he said, “Be ready, these guys are tough.” His smile diminished into a plain face. The prince then became serious along with his father, and braced himself for what was to come through the wall.
The banging rumbled through the tunnel one last time and then stopped. The soldiers in the tunnel all stopped to glance at the stone wall and became quiet. One soldier asked if they had given up, but another said it was impossible. Sure enough, the banging resumed, but this time even louder.
Rocks occasionally fell from the ceiling with each bang, and the ground trembled along with it. The prince hadn’t realized how powerful these Dalphèdors were, until now.
Soon, with one last bang, the stone wall broke open, five large Baldyerhuses charged in and killed the front section of soldiers. The prince ducked for cover from the rocks that flew everywhere. He then lunged towards a Dalphèdor, once he saw that it was in striking distance.
Regaining his footing, he then looked about. His father was in the heat of the battle. Many of the soldiers lay dead at the hole in the wall. Five generals were mounted on horses, desperately warding off the Baldyerhuses as they crowded in. The battlefield didn’t look too good.
He picked up his sword and then ran up towards a group of Dalphèdors and plunged his sword through two of them, with one strike. The others grunted when they saw their companions dead and then charged Alerstark. He raised his sword again and struck one to the side, the others he stab twice in their legs.
Seeing that soldiers were desperately needing help at the front, he charged up, striking away five Dalphèdors as he made his way through the crowd. He raised his sword into the air to strike, but his sword was whipped out of his hand before he noticed what had struck it.
He fell down as the sword hit the ground. Looking up, he saw a very tall man. He stood in the moon light, hulking as a big mass of muscle covered with metal and cloaked with a cape. He held a large steal bow in his hand accompanied by five large metal arrows. The prince looked back and saw his sword lying on the ground, with one of the large metal arrows next to it. The man had obviously shot the arrow aiming directly for his sword.
The prince picked up his sword only to find that the blade was split in half. He looked up at the man with the bow and grimaced. The man mockingly bowed to him, and then made his way down towards the king, who was desperately warding off five Dalphèdors and one Baldyerhuses.
The prince froze when he saw the man walking towards his father. Not knowing what to do, he stood there and watched. The man walked over to the king, and killed the five Dalphèdors that were in his way, and cleared the path for him to strike the king.
Fearing the worst, the prince began to run towards his father. But as he saw the man with the bow raise the bow towards the king, a Baldyerhuses blocked his view. He then he heard a loud ‘twang’, before he saw blood running on the ground.
