Young Writers Society

Section from Prologue (found here)

“You’re the prince!” he exclaimed in surprise. The young royal grinned proudly, and straightened his posture slightly.

“I am. Why are your eyes so funny?”

The boy gave a blink, cheeks turning tomato red. “I don’t know,” he mumbled uncertainly, diverting his mismatched eyes to the ground. The last thing he needed was the very prince of Elyrian making fun of his eyes.

“Don’t worry! I like them. That one is brown,” the prince pointed to the left eye and then to the right, “And that one is green!” He grinned, and the orphan giggled. “What is your name?”

“Leovanethan,” The boy spoke with wavering dignity, wanting to impress the prince, though not entirely sure how to do so.

“Leovanethan? Alright, I will call you Leo.”

Chapter One: Swordplay

“Leo,” a distant voice broke through hazy dreams. A short grunt was the only response. “Leo, wake up!” With the rough shake of a shoulder, his eyes finally drifted open. Leo blinked at the grinning face in front of him. He gave another grunt, head lolling to the side drowsily.

“Let me sleep, Pier.”

Pierkin laughed, the chuckle smooth and full. He stood up straight with his arms folded across his chest. His long blonde hair had been tied back in a braid and his dark eyes sparkled mischievously. “No. I am the prince. Do as I say.” Leo opened a previously closed eye, smirked and slid on to the floor from his chair, cuddling one of the many blankets that lay strewn about the room, a result of the selective laziness that the prince held. Pier laughed again. “Get up! Get up, I say!” He kicked his servant friend, causing the shaggy haired boy to curl into a ball, shaking slightly from laughter. Finally, Leo stood, adjusting the cloth strip around his head to settle evenly over his ears. His thin lips spread into a grin.

“Why do you find so much joy in tormenting me this way?” A mock glare had rested on the prince’s fair face.

“Because I can,” Leo replied, grabbing his shirt off the floor and pulling it over his lean body. “What are we doing that has put you in such a hurry?”

“Training. Cannot be late.”

“For?” A pair of pants followed the shirt and Leo finished dressing, lacing up the ties of his trousers. Amused, he watched Pier lunge forward, thrusting his arm out in front of him, an imaginary weapon in his hand.

“Swordplay. Advanced!” The elvin boy continued moving about the room with his invisible sword. “I am going to be a master swordsman!”

“I suspect you will,” Leo recited, uninterested in Pier’s constant bragging.

“I’ll fight in battle, kill thousands of men -”

“Is that something to be proud of?”

“- And one day, I will be king!”

“Well, isn’t that expected?” A hint of disdain weaved throughout his soft voice. Pier stopped his ministrations to look at his friend. Leo averted his mismatched eyes to the window in an attempt to conceal the frown of jealousy that darkened the soft features of his face.

“Leo…” Pier placed a hand on his shoulder. “Brother, be with me until the end of our days.” The shorter boy looked up into Pier’s face, smiling from the encouragement.

“Aye, I will, my prince. Brother.”

Pierkin grinned, patting him on the chest before leading the way out of his bedroom and toward the training hall. They were silent along the way; both were willingly adapted the hierarchy between prince and servant. However, status-related respected could always, and were always, broken in private.

The prince came to a halt at a large oak door, while Leo marched forward. He pulled at it’s marble handles, arms tensing with the immense weight, and revealed a gigantic stone hall. The walls were lined on both sides with long windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, bathing the floor in the morning's pale sunlight. The framework around each window portrayed the lives of past kings of Elyrian. Some told of deaths made in vicious battles, others of peaceful reigns spent serving the kingdom. The ceiling above shimmered in the light, as though its masonry held millions of tiny stars. It was impossibly high, reaching up hundreds of feet, and was held up by great white pillars that spiraled down to meld with the ground. Outside, white trees with translucent leaves swayed gracefully in the breeze.

'The worked of the elves never ceases to inspire, thought Leo. He was one of the few humans who lived inside the palace walls, and yet he had never found the Royal elves and their masterpieces dull.

Especially Pierkin.

The prince entered the hall, gliding across the floor with the elegance of the elf he was. Leo followed behind, though moved to the side to watch. That was his job - to watch and protect prince Pierkin at all times. And Leo was sure to fulfill his duty with loyal heart. He leaned against the wall, watching Pier and his teacher ready themselves for a mock fight. The stone was warm upon his back, having been heated from the sun, and he allowed his head to rest against it, the palms of his hands pressed to it. A gentle sigh lifted his narrow chest for a moment before dropping back to a regular pattern. He ran a hand through wavy hair and allowed his mind to wander.

"Are you ready, your majesty?" The gruff voice of he old, yet experienced teacher echoed lightly in the nearly empty room. Standing in the middle of the hall, he defied age with his posture and fit body, though the silver color of his hair and the creases in his skin showed that he was certainly an elder. Pierkin stepped into a stance, his sword raised and ready, eyes locked on the old elf.

“I am.”

Instantaneously, the teacher leapt, his sword slashing to the side. A loud clang rang throughout the hall as Pierkin blocked and moved, sidestepping the elder and bringing his sword down. Another block, another clang.

“Good! Now, move faster!” The teacher picked up momentum, swinging lighting-fast strikes at Pier. The boy was barely able to block them all, and had to dodge out of the way at times.

“How?” He was almost on his knees, buckling from the attacks.

“Feel it! Feel the energy rise up from the stone, steal it from the sun, steal it from me!” The vicious match continued on. Pierkin fumbled and fell, rolling out of the way just as the teacher’s sword smashed into the ground where his head had been. ‘He will not give up!’ “What are you? You are a prince! Do you want to disgrace your family with your careless child’s play? Do you want to disgrace your country?”

“No!”

“You are a disgrace!” Leo looked up at this comment. The teacher was walking on dangerous ground, and he knew it. Leo anticipated the reaction. Pier’s almond shaped eyes narrowed, their brown color darkening even more with the intensity of a challenge. He rolled out from under the teacher’s blows, springing up from the ground and immediately launching himself at the teacher. Leo’s large hands clenched into fists. Pier could kill the teacher if he lost control…

The old, wrinkled elf raised his sword in defense and tried to move out of the, but Pier had found what he needed. He moved with the teacher, swinging every which way and growing more and more furious with each miss. Finally, he saw an opportunity and leapt, ready to bring the sword down upon on the teacher’s head.

“No, Pierkin! Stop!”

At the sound of Leo’s voice, Pier froze mid-blow, both arms raised above his head and clutching his sword. His eyes were focused on the teacher, who now scrambled out from under him. Leo shuffled over to Pierkin and placed a hand on his arm, lowering it slightly. “Pier…” The prince looked at him, stepped back into a lined position and let his arms fall back to his sides. The teacher regained his posture and began to laugh.

“Good! Yes! That’s it!” Pier’s chin rose slightly, a proud smirk settled on his face. Leo rolled his eyes. Pierkin took praise like a dog; he would roll over for a compliment. Of course, he could afford to be arrogant; he was the prince after all. “Now you need to learn to control that power and call on it when you need it.” With a showy flick of the wrist, he slid the sword back into its sheath and paid the teacher a deep bow, his straight hair spilling over his shoulder. Leo stepped back as the training went on, losing himself in his thoughts for hours, watching only occasionally for danger. Then finally, the raspy voice of the teacher brought his attention back to the room, “Go now, we are done for today.” Pier walked out, Leo holding the magnificent doors open once more and following behind.

Unstrapping the weapon from his waist, Pierkin strolled out into the fresh morning air, dropping the sword on the floor just inside the small back entrance to the castle. Instinctively, Leo picked it up and leaned it against the wall carefully, jogging a few paces to keep up with Pier’s long strides. Once outside, Pier stopped and turned to Leo, a haughty expression on his face. “Fight me.”

“Right now? Wouldn’t you rather rest first?”

“Oh, I don’t need that. Rest is for…Elders…And humans. And such.” Leo laughed at this. “I know you. You don’t want to be beat again.”

“Beat again? You can only beat me at swordplay,” Leo said, trying not to let the prince’s ego inflate too highly. Nasty situations ensued when this boy became too cocky. ‘Like with that butcher…’ He shuddered at the memory, a hand subtly touching his throat. ‘Never again will I allow him into any place holding numerous knives.’

“That is not true! You can only beat me at Archery!” Leo laughed again, though this time it was not the usual full, hearty laugh, but a sharp, mocking one. He stuck his Well, admitting he could be beat at archery was something, anyway. Pier grinned. With that, the two boys jumped at each other, falling to the ground. The courtyard lawn was green and long, perfect ground for wrestling. They rolled around and playfully hit, kicked and locked each other in holds. Leo began to wrap his arm around Pier’s neck when he was suddenly knocked to the ground, Pier’s shoulder having rammed into his chest. “Aha!” Pierkin had him pinned to the ground. Leo glared up at him. “I told you I would win.”

The smirk on his face was so cocky that Leo was almost tempted to attack him again. However, he resisted. He knew better than to try to win a fight you have already lost. For if one did try, he could easily be killed. It was a law of simple magic. If one man had won a battle, he can no longer lose it. The simple magic born inside every creature in Elyrian would rise up if the defeated man tried to attack after losing. And if the victor had not be trained, did not know how to control it, chaos could follow. Magic was a powerful thing, even simple magic. That was why only one man knew complex magic: the king. Of course, he passed the knowledge on to his heir, but they were never fully academic in the magic until their coronation.

Leo blinked, pushing Pier off of him and sat up. He brushed dirt off his shirt, “Well, I can still beat you at archery.” A smile hid under the glare in his eyes, and when Pierkin hit him playfully on the shoulder, Leo grinned. “Hey, that is bound to count for something, eh?”

“Aye, I suppose. But you are the only one. I am better than everyone else,” Pier said, only half joking.

“Of course, your majesty,” Leo’s voice was dripping with mockery.

“Don’t get smart with me,” His attention wandered beyond the gate. “Let’s go out.”

‘I swear, the only thing he can concentrate on for more than five minutes is a mirror,’ Leo thought as he stood and followed his master out of the great stone gates.[/url]