This is the first part of the first chapter.
A young boy moved slowly up the rocky hillside, stumbling occasionally under his small burden. His father looked down from the crest of the hill, down past his boy to the valley below. His gaze was wistful, sorry that he was in this situation, sorry that his son had been dragged into it.
His son joined him, then also turned back to look upon the only home he had ever known. “Will we ever come back Father?” he asked innocently, looking up into his sire’s weathered face.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.” He turned and suddenly realized the sun was almost showing above the far horizon. “Come we must go. They mustn’t find us here.” And with that they quickly made their way down the slope and into the dense forest at its base.
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In an underground chamber less than a mile away, a man with cruel, calculating eyes celebrated his victory. Everything had gone according to plan. Better than he had hoped actually. Then he sobered. The price had been Amra. His eyes closed. “Fool of a girl!” He muttered, hurling his goblet against the earthen wall. Hadn’t she known that he was the better man? Hadn’t he promised her everything she could want? But her father had told her evil, vile things about him that she needn’t have ever known, and thus refused to let her marry him or even begin to fall for him. His plans of courting had been thwarted even before he could begin. Instead she had wed that relative peasant whose lesser wealth had forced her to labor to run her own household. Whereas with him, she would have been waited on hand and foot until the day she died. But then, the king had died, and without an heir, Jemlar, the king’s nephew had been appointed to the throne. He hated feeling inferior to that peasant! Because of his wrath for Amra’s father he had tried to subdue, to bring under, the land in which they dwelled. But Jemlar had stood up strongly for his wife’s people, and threatened a battle against him and his followers. Knowing they could not stand against the king’s army, he had backed down, but he hadn’t given up. Not by a long shot. He would like nothing better than to see Jemlar dead. But that would come. Oh yes, it would come. The preparations were already being made. Before Jemlar died he would beg. He would beg for mercy, and for the life of his son. But nothing would be granted Jemlar. For this man’s heart was a stone. As cold as the snow on the peak of high Mount Kynad. His wrath and malice towards this man Jemlar was far too great to ever subside.
The old wooden door in the far corner wall creaked open, bringing him out of his deep thought. A knight entered, his most trusted friend and advisor. “Everything is done and ready, my lord Duce.”
“Good, good. No one will suspect anything?”
“No one. I have seen that all of the evidence against you has been destroyed. It has been reported throughout the city that the entire royal family has been slain. Three bodies will be buried tomorrow in the tomb of the kings. Queen Amra--”
“I told you never to speak her name in my presence!! “Duce exclaimed, bursting up from his chair. Enraged, his whole body shook as he slowly sat down. His face filled with mixed emotions. “Continue.“
“Yes, the queen, and two unfortunates that became the victims of our brilliant plan. I believe it is safe to proceed with your plan. Though, I wouldn’t just yet. As the next relative, you need to hold a time of mourning. Maybe a period of about two weeks. Then, as next in line to the throne, declare yourself the next king.”
At this the corners of Duce’s mouth turned up, ever so slightly, at the thought. He liked the inevitable prospect indeed. With this new power he could crush Amra’s people. He would bring them to ruin, and make them his slaves. He could have a few much desired words with Amra’s father. Yes, he was very pleased with how things were going.
Hope to read more:)