Young Writers Society

Hey, this is the prologue to my novel. I know there's something it needs but I'd love help learning what that is! (Mainly I feel I spend too much time with the background information, and I want to know what the audience feels can be edited out.) Review are wanted! Thanks!

Phoenix One: Emtipha's Phoenix

Book One: Heart of a Firebird

-

Touch the star-lit words

Raindrops cascading from an emerald leaf

Falling like tears of music,

Soft chimes upon the ground.

The wind, low voices

A storm, a mournful violin

A requiem that brushes a trembling sky.

Hesitant sunbeams pierce the quavering clouds

Like a melody on a piano

And the rippling silver grass

Like whispering--

So reach out, Phoenix, stretch to the sky

And touch the star-lit words

That ascend to heaven on gold-speckled wings

Soaring into the distant reaches

Of flaming eternity.

O, remember the Celestial Fire

Born again into the One

Of white angel wings,

Each moment of beauty

Suspended in stillness,

Illuminated to astonishing clarity

As redemption is born

And the Five are One:

Fire, Wind

Water and Wood

And Earth, the Immovable

Inside she, the Phoenix, in whose eyes

Is the power of Emtipha

And the beauty of all magic.

-

- From The Flight of the Phoenix

-

Prologue: Demise of the Kingdom

On Earth, magic is sleeping. It long ago surrendered to slumber, beaten down by unbelief. But it wasn't always like that; in the medieval age, magic sensed its hold on the planet was waning, and it chose a few select human bearers--and it changed them. They became the first Mirror Children, but they were only a shadow of what was to come. The children of the Mirror-folk became Elves, chosen to channel the magic in their corner of the universe. They were still human, but more than any human. Stronger, smarter, more talented, and more beautiful, they were illustrations of how wonderful magic really could be. Each elf was permeated with power. They either had some control over one of the five elements, or--a very few--even controlled the energy that bound the universe together. They could even choose whether or not they wished to age as humans do.

These elves had a supreme ruler, chosen by Emtipha herself to be imbued with not one but all five elemental powers. This ruler became a conduit of the sun's own immense energy and were marked by the white wings of an angel. If the chosen elf was a woman, she was to be called the Phoenix, and if he were a man, he was the Sphinx.

Not many generations after they first began to exist however, the elves found there was little welcome for them on Earth. Many elves went underground. Others, following their Phoenix Tanicia, joined their powers together and created a magical dimension around the sun, where they could dwell until Earth was ready for magic again.

But then disaster struck. Tanicia's son Abenel, who was to be Sphinx, vanished. The throne was instead passed on to Tanicia's daughter Kyana, but she was not chosen by Emtipha to house the magic of the sun. For generations the rule remained strong and good, but over time the kings and queens grew more and more corrupt, for there was still no Sphinx or Phoenix to lead them in divine rule. Taxes rose; the rich became richer and the poor became poorer. Punishments were harsher than crimes merited, and slavery became a popular practice. Stirrings of a rebellion stole through the kingdom but never rose, crushed beneath stern hands.

It wasn't until the late twentieth century, as it would be counted on Earth, that things changed. Prince Nathel was the younger son of King Ardenon and therefore not crown prince; that honor belonged to his brother, Koan. Koan was cruel and cunning like his father before him. When Koan died in a border skirmish with a traitor lord, King Ardenon vowed never to die; his flippant, soft, disobedient son would never have the throne!

But it was not to be. While Nathel was away aiding a village in its fight against sea raiders, an assassin murdered the king as he lay in his bed. Nathel returned and took the throne. His mother, Queen Nirenia, still tried to control her son, but found him obstinate and untamable. He married a girl he'd brought back from the ocean village--a peasant, of all things; she was the daughter of a poor fisherman. Soon after the marriage, however, Loria was pregnant and there was no turning back.

King Nathel's rule was something new for the people. He was an affable, understanding man who had a strong sense of fairness. The taxes were lowered and he started projects to help the poor, ill, and uneducated back on their feet. Emissaries were sent to win the courtiers to his side and the trading of slaves was outlawed. Building projects went up all around the royal city, restoring the old hovels and building new homes for the homeless. In an incredibly short time, Nathel had won the fiery loyalty of many through his kindness and honesty.

Because of Nathel's quintessential goodness, it seems a bitter irony that the Rebellion chose to make their move at last. Emberon, a charismatic elf with an enduring hatred of royalty coupled with a thirst for power of his own, traveled throughout the kingdom spreading lies and twisted truths about the king and queen, fanning the dying flame of rebellion into a roaring inferno.

The queen, meanwhile, bore triplets. Her firstborn was a boy, Ashbel, and then two girls, Taelem and Lataea. At first, everyone thought they were just a regular threesome of elves. But on their fourth birthday, Taelem was playing at the edge of a seaside cliff. She was a mature little girl, but her mother kept a close eye on her all the same. But all had failed to realize she was sitting on a precipice only a foot thick. Queen Loria, starting forward with a scream of horror, saw the rock crumble and Taelem tumble towards the sea with a helpless cry.

But the child did not fall to her death. Light burst from where she had fallen, and seconds later she rose into the air, white wings stretched from her small body. Her siblings, sensing her fear and distress, had the same reaction; their magic flared and wings appeared. But Taelem was the true heir. Finally, a Phoenix had come to lead them again. Perhaps it was this that truly stirred the Rebellion. Emberon convinced many the Phoenix was not a sacred calling from a good deity named Emtipha, but a manifestation of the bloodline which would mean total subjugation. And so the kingdom, so tenuously repaired, fell apart.

When the children were ten, early in the 21st century, the Rebellion launched their full-scale attack. Emberon had been clever in his planning and had bribed, tricked, and coerced the right people to his side; the majority of the kingdom's most powerful elves rode with him. He'd also mastered a forbidden art which he used to terrifying precision; he could collect the magic of other elves. He hurt, tortured, and threatened those who were not willing to fight at his side into granting him their magic. His most dangerous foes he killed after gaining their power, and so the best of the Loyalists fell. It was no wonder when the barriers around the palace collapsed, sending the royal city into panic. The military was quickly dominated and the king and queen captured as they tried to distract Emberon from their fleeing children. Ashbel hadn't made it far when a chimera caught him, but Lataea and Taelem ran into the Atagian desert in hopes of finding the desert-folk, who would surely grant them shelter.

* * * * *

Sand rolled in endless hills in every direction, hot to the touch in spite of the dark night. A wind had started, blowing grit ferociously across the undulating desert. Two girls struggled against the gale, fighting through the darkness made impenetrable by the thick veil of dust above their heads. They kept their hands clasped together and heads bowed as the sand whipped into the sky and they sunk down to their knees with each step.

The girls weren't tall; they were ten and found it difficult to traverse the soft sands of the Atagian quickly. Their dresses were tattered and their skin burned, and holes were beginning to wear through their slippers. After all, they hadn't been prepared for the attack.

And now they had to keep running. Taelem and Lataea were both weak and parched, but the battalion of fifty strong elves Emberon had sent to pursue them were only minutes behind. They had considered flying or trying to bury themselves out of sight in the sand, but Taelem's magic was too traceable. The best option was to stay ahead of the Rebellion...or split up, something neither sister wished to do.

The latter, less desirable option was starting to look like the only way. Taelem, who'd been relentlessly trained in fighting, politics, history, and everything else imaginable (because she was the Phoenix) was keeping up a better pace than her sister. Lataea was tough and an amazing fighter for a ten-year-old, but she'd twisted her ankle badly and couldn't quite manage to sprint lightly across the top of the sand the way Taelem did. Taelem had kept a tight grasp on Lataea's wrist so she was at least stumbling along behind her. Taelem's chances were better without Lataea, but she wouldn't even consider leaving her sister behind.

"We should fly!" Lataea gasped. "We can't stay ahead!"

"No! Then I'll be traceable and whoever we go to will be in danger, too!" Taelem cursed herself for not learning how to keep her magic from leaving a trail before; there was so much of it that it leaked out of her and lingered wherever she went. Of course, Lataea would not have the same problem....

With a little cry, Lataea collapsed. She had landed on her bad foot and it was the last bit she could take. "I can't go anymore!" she cried, trying to pull her hand from Taelem's. "Star, just go on without me!"

"No!" Taelem's voice was too sharp and commanding for a ten-year-old. "We can't let them catch you!" She dragged Lataea back onto her feet and grasped her shoulders, holding her so they were eye-to-eye. They were both very different and yet very much alike; Taelem had soft blonde curls, electric blue eyes, and skin more tanned than burnt. Lataea was as fair as snow, with straight hair as black as a raven's wing and eyes the color of a storm-tossed sea. But their faces had the same structure, like mirrored images that had just been colored differently. "Listen to me, Taea. If I fly, they'll be able to follow me for sure. I want you to fly without me. Go find the Atagians. I can run faster without you, and if I'm caught I'm sure I can fight my way out. Emtipha will have to help me...! But I'm sure I'll be fine. I want you to go without me!"

Lataea looked like this was a worse idea than giving up. "No...! Star, don't make me leave you! You--if they kill you, then--"

"They don't want me dead!" Taelem interrupted, grinning a crooked, terrified grin. "What use would that be? I'll bet they'll try to use me, so even if I get caught I won't die. Come on, Lataea, you know I'm right."

Lataea's face was stormy. "I'm staying with you," she replied stubbornly. Taelem's farce cheerfulness died instantly.

"Lataea, if you don't go, I'll kill you myself." Her voice had grown grim and stone hard. "We can't both escape if we stick together, and you dying painlessly now is better than leaving you to their tender mercies. Emberon will torture you to death for fun." The child's eyes were blazing with a sort of determined ice-fire Lataea had never seen there before, and she couldn't even bring herself to doubt Taelem's words. A horrified shiver ran down her spine.

"But Star..." she whispered.

"GO!" Fire burst uncontrollably from Taelem's fingertips as she thrust her sister away. "Go, Taea! Fly and and don't look back! Find help, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise!"

Taea fell backwards and watched Taelem for a moment, dumbfounded. Taelem had always been the gentle one; Lataea hadn't seen her get into a fight once, other than training. She was always trying to help someone and devoting herself to everything she did. Lataea was more rash, prone to pouncing before thinking, following Ashbel around and getting into contests with the other boys. But not Taelem, whom she fondly called Star. Taea never would have thought to hear her own sister say something like that! Not Taelem.

Then anger flared; Lataea staggered back to her feet. "Don't boss me around!" she yelled. "And if you die, I told you so!" She let her magic burst from her, forming her wings, and then she ran away from her sister, leaping into the air and soaring out of sight, sped along by the wind Taelem sent after her. As she flew, tears of anger and shame dripped to the ground, because Lataea knew she would've done anything to escape those burning eyes.

Taelem sank to the ground, trembling with terror and anguish she'd been hiding from her sister. Her small hands shook as she clasped them in her lap, bowing her head in prayer. Forgive me, Emtipha. Forgive me for what I said to Lataea. Forgive me for all I might do now...I don't think I can stay in control much longer. I'm sorry.

Emberon's men caught up with Taelem just as light was rising behind her. Immediately, Taelem was filled with intense energy that burned with her rage. She unconsciously called water to her from deep beneath the desert sand, freezing it about her fingers in diamond-hard claws. Through the haze, Emberon's mounted battalion became visible. They paused as they saw her in turn, a small and frail silhouette against the horizon. They laughed.

"Emberon wants her alive!" the captain yelled victoriously. "We'll catch her and then find the brat's sister!"

It was then something within Taelem snapped, her gentle spirit vanquished by the fanatical desire to protect Lataea. She rushed at them, the monster inside her roaring for blood.

It was incredible how quickly a ten-year-old girl could inspire fear and panic in seasoned, trained soldiers. Her magic was unstoppable, her movements too fast to follow, her attacks merciless. While Taelem was far from unscathed--her rage blinded her and kept her from dodging properly--it was as though she didn't even feel the pain. One after another, her would-be captors fell to the ground, their life-blood seeping into the desert floor. As the last one collapsed, choking on his own blood, Taelem staggered backwards with a gasp.

She was drenched in blood, the foul stench of it filling her nostrils. It was as though the reality of what she'd just done came crashing on her like a mountain, its weight crushing her. Taelem fell to her knees, staring at the carnage before her, her eyes dilating; what had she done? Gripping her hair, Taelem curled into a tight fetal position and screamed with the anguish of one far beyond her years.

* * * * *

It had to have been two days, at least, before anyone found what was later known as the Massacre of the Phoenix. Taelem was still lying in the same position where she'd first dropped, her eyes open but blank and unseeing, staring at the dried husk of the man who'd been her last kill. But it wasn't Loyalists who found her; it was Emberon himself.

He was tall and dark-skinned, with black eyes--a Dark Elf, as many called them. His hatred for the royal family stemmed from the history of his tribe. He stood over the young princess, his eyes cold and haughty. "Take her," he commanded stonily. Two of his men jumped off their horses and dragged the princess to her feet so she was facing Emberon. Her eyelids flickered; some semblance of recognition entered her eyes, but she seemed too far gone to care.

"You've done quite the deed here, Princess," Emberon whispered to her, his black eyes boring into her. "Look at all this death. All of it was caused by you. I was right about the so-called Phoenix being nothing but a freak of nature. Put her in the cage!" he called to his men.

And so Taelem learned what it meant to go to hell.

~ Four years later ~

Taelem lay in a crumpled heap on the floor of a tiny, dingy cell, dressed in bloodstained rags. She was barely clinging to life; she was emaciated, and she'd been mercilessly tortured and beaten each day since she'd been brought to Emberon's prison. Emberon coveted her magic, which would give him power for total domination--though he seemed ready to settle for her death. But Taelem knew millions, possibly billions more would suffer if she gave Emberon her power. Despite all the pain and the horrors she saw, most done in the name of her stubbornness, Taelem couldn't give Emberon her magic.

According to Emberon, her parents were already dead. She'd known they'd been captured nearly right off, and Emberon had told her they had been tossed into the catacombs beneath the prison after their bodies gave in to his methods of torture. He said a chimera had killed Ashbel during the initial attack and Lataea had perished in the desert. Taelem was alone in the world.

Taelem took a deep breath; the time was nearly right. Over the past four years, she'd been spending the tidbits of time alone to weaken the magical barriers, and now they were ready to burst. She could overcome them with a bit of effort.

The princess stirred as she heard heavy footsteps coming down the corridor towards her cell. She hadn't spoken a single words since her capture, nor uttered a single cry of pain. She felt it was the only way to keep from giving up.

The Whipmaster halted outside Taelem's cell door. She smiled grimly at the sight of him. "Your turn, Princess-Witch," he grunted, grinning coldly. She marveled how anyone could make the beautiful Elven language sound so harsh. He was tall, as were most elves, and heavy with massive muscles. He held a long, leather whip woven with claws, spikes, fragments of glass, and thorns from the stinging iron thorn, which caused inflammation. It was something Taelem was well acquainted with by now, having received twenty-five lashes each two days since arriving--her back was in tender shreds. But that was easier to bear than the two daily interrogations with Emberon. The pain from a whip didn't even begin to compare to Emberon's magical torture.

"Turn around, Princess," the Whipmaster drawled. The girl obeyed, showing him her back.

Crack! Fresh blood trickled down Taelem's spine as her entire back seared with pain. She didn't even flinch, however; the only sign she was in pain was her clenched fists and burning eyes. Crack! Some of the glass snagged and tore away a piece of her flesh. The man laughed and taunted her about her parents and siblings, but she refused to take the bait. It continued until she'd had fifty lashes, with an extra for good measure.

"You ready to talk yet?" the Whispmaster snarled, kicking her feet out from under her so she crumpled to the floor. She stayed limp and didn't say a word. Just a little longer, she thought. The Whipmaster's eyes widened--one of his rages were coming. "You witch--!" he started, his voice catching as a frenzied scream tore from his throat. He slammed the toe of his boot into her ribs again and again. Taelem felt a couple of her ribs crack again. Then his boot landed in her stomach; she started coughing violently, blood gushing from her mouth, rolling away before it got worse. "Talk! Say something!" the Whipmaster demanded.

Desperate, Taelem stood back up, wiping the blood away from her lips. She glared with intense eyes. "I'll only talk to Emberon," she proclaimed.

* * * * *

Emberon stood in the cell, facing the defiant girl coolly. "My Whipmaster tells me you finally broke your silence," he said. "What did you call me for, Princess?"

Taelem met his eyes steadily, somehow wrestling down the paralyzing fear inside her. "i had to let you know," she said, a faint smile playing across her lips. "You will not be capable of keeping this kingdom. I will take it back and liberate my people. Between your hunger for power and your misled beliefs, you have been blinded. See before it is too late, Emberon--Emtipha has taken my side. I will return."

Emberon realized what her words meant. "Strengthen the barrier!" he bellowed, but too late. Taelem heaved with all her might, magic flaring and shattering the barrier, blasting those nearest off their feet. She twisted, crying out in pain, and vanished--she had teleported.

Taelem knew immediately she'd done something wrong. She could feel her magic draining too fast, pulling on her already frail life force. In a panic, she felt it all leaving her--the magic, her strength, even her memories.

Everything faded into blackness.