So I'm writing a book right now called "Keepers of the Realm." I just finished writing the first chapter, so tell me what you guys think. If you want a synopsis of what the book is actually about too, just let me know.
Anyway here's the first chapter so far:
Keepers of the Realm
Chapter 1
By Martin Stranc
I was running. Aimlessly and senselessly, I ran through the thick pines, maples, and oaks that so densely populated the forest creating a canopy so thick neither the moon nor the stars could be seen above my cold and frantic body. There was no light to guide me. I could not see more than a foot in front of me. I was a traveler without a map or compass, a sailor without a lighthouse, and a blind man without his cane. But still, I ran. I ran through the forest feeling every branch tearing through my arms and face. I could feel the dew and frost on my legs that had built up on the cool, autumn, forest floor.
What was I running from? Where was I going? I had no idea how to even begin to answer these questions. All I knew was that I needed to keep running. Death is a relentless pursuer, and he would not find me tonight. That is one thing I can promise.
After what seemed like hours of tripping over fallen branches, bumping into tree stumps, and having my flesh torn by low branches around me, I could feel my body start to get weak. My heart pounded in my ears, my lungs greedily gasped and wheezed for every molecule of oxygen that they could possibly consume in every breath, and my legs started to buckle beneath me. My head was in a haze, and I desperately looked around for a place to hide and rest for a while.
Suddenly, a silver beam of light broke through the canopy. I looked up to see a full moon shining down on me, reflecting its spectral beauty across my face. The canopy was thinning, and so was the forest. The sight of the moon seemed to empower me. My heart calmed itself, my breathing normalized, and my legs were suddenly moving faster than they had all night. I had to make it out of the forest.
More and more of the forest started to brighten up as small needles of silver luminescence started to slice through the canopy. I was going to make it out, I thought. This had not been a hopeless endeavor after all.
However, during my mad and most primal dash out of the forest, I began to lose awareness. My haste is was my downfall. There was a sudden and sharp pain in my right shin, and I could feel myself suddenly sailing through the air. I fell swiftly back to the frigid dirt of the forest floor. I could feel the frost, dirt, and leaves scraping against the side of my face as I slid to a stop. I turned over to find that I had tripped over a large, hollowed out log.
I had made a fatal mistake. There was no turning back now. I lay there silently holding my breath and listening to my surroundings. All I could hear were the insects which lay claim to the the night and the occasional hoot of an owl. I let out a long sigh of relief. I panted hard now, trying to catch my breath. My heart was in my ears again, and my temples pulsed in a hard and steady rhythm. I had escaped. I had no idea how, but I had escaped.
My relief was ended rather abruptly, however, by a loud snap of one of the many twigs that littered the forest floor. My head shot upright and my eyes frantically peered through the darkness to see what was there. At first there was nothing, but slowly I could make out the silhouette of a hooded figure walking out from behind a tree.
A chill ran up my spine, and my body went cold as ice. My hair stood on end, and I just lay there paralyzed in fear on the forest floor. For a brief moment, I thought that perhaps he hadn’t seen me, but as soon as that thought left my mind, the figure rushed toward me and pinned me to the ground. Struggling and attempting to get away, I saw the figure raise his arm into the air and a silver reflection from the light of the starry sky glinted off a sword.
In a panic, I somehow managed to get a foot free and kick my attacker in the side of the face. He fell to the ground briefly, which gave me just enough time to get back to my feet and start running again. My victory was short-lived. I felt something grasp around my ankle, and I fell to the ground again.
“Martin!” a voice echoed through the forest.
Someone was looking for me, I thought. If I could just hold out a little longer maybe I could be saved.
“I’m over here!” I yelled into the labyrinth of trees, brush, and decay.
But it was too late. The figure towered above me now, and I could see the flash of a sword through the dark again. His blade was rushing towards me. All I could do was watch while death claimed me.
“Martin!” the voice echoed again.
It was too late, I thought. There was no way out of this now. The sword fell towards me closer, and closer still.
“Martin! Get up!”
The blade came down right between my eyes.
“Martin!”
I jumped forward suddenly, gasping for breath. I was shaking uncontrollably and my body was soaked with a cold sweat. I panted now, not out of fatigue, but out of a most intense terror.
“Martin! Are you up yet? We have to be in the courtyard in two hours!”
“Yeah,” I yelled back. “I’m up! I’m up!”
I looked around to see my room. I was sitting upright in my bed. It had all been a dream. I noticed how disorganized my room was as I looked around. My nightstand had been turned over, and the candle that usually rest on it now littered the floor along with my clothes which had somehow made their way out of the locked chest I had packed them in. My dresser drawers were flung open, the curtains on my window flapped in the wind, and a small mirror that had once been on the wall now rested in my lap.
My eyes poured into the glassy, metallic reflection. A boy of sixteen peered back at me. He had brown eyes and brown, wavy hair of medium length with a chiseled body that looked as if it may be as hard as stone. Droplets of cold sweat rolled down his face as he sat gasping to catch his breath and shaking from the fear that plagued his dreams. He held his hand to his forehead for a moment attempting to keep himself from shaking, wiped the sweat from his brow, and got up to place the mirror back on his wall. I had just gotten the mirror back into its normal resting place and was turning to leave my room when I thought I saw something. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my reflection’s eyes turn completely black. They were glossy like obsidian and peered into my very soul. I shook my head as a violent chill ran down my spine, and I took another look at the mirror. I looked normal. My brown eyes had not gone anywhere.
“Get a grip on yourself, Martin,” I exhaled as I turned away and walked toward the pile of clothes that littered my floor. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
I managed to find some pants and a dark red tunic in the pile of clothes. I put them on, opened the door, and left the room. I walked down a stone corridor, a flight of stairs, and entered the castle’s great hall where my father sat waiting at one of the long tables. No sunlight had shone through the stained glass windows yet. It was early and the sun was just on the verge of rising. The hall was lit with braziers that lined the walls and crackled gently. They bathed the hall in a dancing light which licked at the tables covered in intricately decorated red and gold diamond cloth.
My father sat eating breakfast at the one nearest the throne. He was a rough looking man with black hair and a bright, blue eye. His other eye was covered by an eye patch where a long scar crept out from under it and onto his cheek. A cane leaned against the table next to him. He lifted his arm and motioned to a plate across from him at the table.
“Come. Eat,” he said through mouthfuls of food. “I suspect you’ll have to forage on the way to the capitol. This may be your last real meal for about a week or so.”
I nodded and sat down at the table in front of him. I picked up a fork to start eating, but I dropped it before I even came close to piercing the egg’s yolk. The fork clattered on top of the plate and echoed through the stone halls. I was still shaking from the terror that stalked me in my dreams. My father looked up.
“Are you alright?” He said, “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” I said, picking up the fork successfully this time and beginning to eat.
“Are you sure? Why are you sweating?”
“It’s nothing,” I replied. “It was just a dream.”
“Seems to have shaken you up quite a bit,” he insinuated. “Are you nervous about your recruitment?”
This subject had been gnawing at my brain for some time. I was confident in my abilities and potential, but I couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Many lords of Tyrinthia sent their sons to the castle to become knights in the king’s army, but I knew it would make me an easy target to challenge. Hopefully I would be able to live up to my family’s reputation.
“No,” I lied.
My father grunted in approval and we both began to eat our breakfasts again. There was a long silence while we ate until curiosity struck me.
“Is it true what they say about mother? The old stories, I mean.”
My father coughed suddenly, choking on his food. “What stories?”
“The ones you used to tell me when I was younger. I hear people in the city speak of her sometimes. Whenever they see me, they always mention what a great warrior she was.”
“Ay, of course those are true,” he said gruffly.
I had never met my mother. She died before I had even laid eyes on her. I had heard so many stories about her. She was one of the king’s most trusted swords. It was said that she was fast, quiet, and deadly. There were many who said she could take on hundreds of men by herself and be the last one left standing.
“I’ve heard stories that she could take the lives of five or ten men before anyone even noticed what had happened,” I pressed.
My father smiled. “Well those stories might be a little exaggerated, but she definitely knew how to wield a blade. Many would even say she was a witch,” he laughed.
“Was she?” I asked jestfully.
Father seemed to flinch for a second, but then belted out a hearty laugh when he had realized my tone, “No, of course not.”
It seemed as if he were feigning his lightheartedness though as his face turned red and his eyes watered, so I didn’t press the issue. Of course I was joking. These were just old wise tales from the locals. My family had become somewhat of a legend after the war for independence against Malignitha. My mother had died in that war, but father had never told me how. All I knew was my father was a great friend of the King, a great warrior once, and was given reign over the city of Richter after the war. I hoped to find out the truth before I took my leave to Tyrinthia’s capital to the north, Bichter Fost. I could tell he still had a sore spot in his heart after he lost her.
An awkward silence had fallen and my father tried to change the subject as I finished the rest of the food on my plate.
“I’m sure you’ll best the rest of your peers in combat though. I’m sure I’ve taught you well,” he said.
“I’m sure the Hero of Tyrinthia teaches his apprentices well,” I said, smirking. “But we should talk later. I need to finish getting ready for the caravan. It should be here soon, right?”
“Oh, you’re right. Hurry up. They won’t be too fond of you if you hold up the caravan,” he replied thankful that he could finally change the subject away from his deceased wife.
I rose from my chair at the table and left the hall. I nearly tripped over the bench as I left. I was still shaking a little from my dream, and my heart felt as though it were beating its way up my throat. My skin crawled thinking about the clothes scattered about my room that I would have to repack. I was a little nervous about joining the King’s Legion, but I welcomed it with the chance to leave that room behind me for a great number of years. I just hoped the haunting would not follow me. I stopped for a second in front of the stairs that led to the tower my room was in. I went down instead of up. I needed to relax for a moment and to wash the stink off of me that had accumulated from the nervous sweat my dreams had worked up.
I descended to the base of the tower and entered the lower levels of the castle. None of the braziers had been lit yet; none of the servants had awakened to light them. It was still too early. I walked down a few corridors nearly blind. I placed my hand on one of the large, wooden doors to the castle bathhouse. I was pushing the door open when I saw something out of the corner of my eye at the end of the corridor. A chill went up my spine and I could feel my hair stand on end.
“Hello? Who’s there?” I inquired.
No one answered. Peering through the darkness, I tried to make out a figure, but I couldn’t see anyone.
“This is Martin, son of Arch Duke Marcus of Richter. I command you to show yourself.”
My voice echoed down the hallways, but no voice returned and no one appeared from the shadows. Once again, I shook off my fear and blamed it on my nerves. I pushed the door to the baths open and went inside. Only one flame was lit inside. A large brazier stood on the floor roaring with fire. A torch’s handle stuck outside the flames. I picked it up and lit the others on the walls around the bathhouse before stripping and descending into the large pool of warm water.
For a long while, I stared into the emptiness of the bathhouse as orange light licked up and down the walls. The place was deserted. No one in the castle besides my father and I were currently awake this morning. Most days, the baths were crowded with high lords and knights discussing politics, guard duty, telling war stories, or flirting incessantly with the women of the castle. I had enjoyed many of my conversations here, but today I was able to reflect and get my thoughts together even despite the eerie silence that lurked in this place, which was usually bustling with conversation. I sat there with my arms on the edge of the pool and my eyes closed just relaxing and trying to forget the dream that had felt so real only moments ago.
I had nearly dozed off when I heard a loud thump. It sounded like a combination of wood and wrought iron. My eyes flicked open to see that the large double doors to the baths had just closed, and a girl stood across the room from me. I recognized her immediately, and she was beautiful. She wore only a robe, and long golden locks cascaded down around her shoulders. A pair of piercing, green eyes bored into me with sudden interest.
She smiled, “Someone’s up early.”
I smirked back, “Seems someone else is too.”
“Yes. I wanted to see the new recruits off this morning and wish them good favor,” she said as she walked slowly around the edge of the baths to where I was sitting.
She pushed on my shoulder with her foot, and I moved forward. I could hear her robe fall to the floor as she dropped into the bath water behind me. Hands started gently massaging my shoulders.
“You feel tense,” she whispered in my ear. “Surely my great lord isn’t afraid.”
I laughed. “Of course not. There was just…this dream.”
“Surely a dream cannot shake you, Martin. I know you’re too rational for that. The Lords of Richter are fearless, or, at least, that’s what they say.”
“I’m not frightened. It’s just something that’s been on my mind.”
At that very moment, for a split second, I could see the hooded figure in the dark of the wood and the edge of a blade rushing toward me. A chill ran through me, and Veronica’s hands no longer felt as comforting. I blinked heavily a few times and saw only the bathhouse when my eyes opened again. I could feel the blood rushing away from my head, shoulders, arms, and chest. I suddenly felt very cold, and my skin must have gone pale.
“Is everything alright?” Veronica asked.
I shook my head back and forth a couple of times. “It’s nothing. It’s just…”
“A dream?” she finished. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
“You ever hear of the Moskan’s speak of the Angel of Death?”
“I’ve heard some of the stories,” she replied.
I explained the dream to her. She listened, taking in every little detail.
“Death stalks you,” she laughed. “but don’t worry. Death stalks us all. It’s only a question of when he decides to strike.”
“True enough,” I chuckled.
“Just remember, you can still fight while you are still alive. Fight death, and you will survive. Only allow him to claim you once you know your purpose is complete.”
“And just what is my purpose?”
“That is for you to decide,” she whispered into my ear, “but let me take your mind off of it for just a little while.”
I could feel the warmth come back to my body as she leaned forward and pressed her lips against my neck, her bare breasts pressing against my back.
“Did your father put you up to this?” I asked.
Veronica’s father was a high lord and advisor to my father. He was an honorable man, but he was always seeking out positions of higher power for his family. Lord Victor had repeatedly tried to negotiate marriage deals between myself and Veronica with my father. Father had always refused. He had a firm belief that I should make up my own mind about who I was to marry. Despite all of that, however, Veronica was certainly beautiful, and there was no resisting her touch.
“Father is certainly an ambitious man, but I don’t think he would approve,” she whispered mischievously.
And you are surely an ambitious woman, I thought to myself as she moved to straddle my lap.