Young Writers Society

Chapter One

(6 days earlier)

King Orlin rode his horse quickly through the Pass of Shades in the Moore Mountains. He used a less often traveled path and needed to hurry after being delayed by a terrible thunderstorm. It had been above him for a long time, stalled by the high mountains. He needed to get to Qahz Palace before King Xano began to worry, and then back to his own Deraine Palace before his people began to worry. If worried, they would look for him--something that was not on his list of things he wanted to happen.

Should the guards search for him, they would look south to where he was supposed to be, in the southern Moore Mountains near the rural city, Yanmar. The guards, followed shortly by everyone else in existence, would find out that he had never gone to Yanmar. Then he would have to come up with a valid explanation for why he was not there, and even then, his plans may still be in jeopardy in the likely event that it was determined best to send escorts with him in the future. It had been difficult enough to gain permission to travel alone to begin with; King Orlin did not need to give the palace a reason to send escorts with him in the future so everyone could be sure their king was safe. In any case, if escorts accompanied him, they would have a tragic accident along the way that resulted in their most unfortunate deaths. Where King Orlin truly went was somewhere that no one in Deraine could know about. He had to be exceptionally careful about the amount of time he spent away and that nobody saw except for those that were meant to. Delays were very risky for him, putting a strain on his traveling time. It would be much easier to soothe King Xano’s fears than Deraine’s.

The king slowed his horse. He had been riding her quickly and she was beginning to tire.

The sun was just beginning to show through the thick storm clouds, but the increase in visibility had nothing to do with what he sensed next.

A short distance up, the trees thickened, but not enough for most people to notice. It was an ideal place for them to lurk, black shadows like holes into another dimension.

Few had ever encountered them, fewer still told about them, fewest of all told about them through their own experiences. When in a physical form, they were said to take on a serpent-like body, but with taloned arms and legs, and a head like a wolverine’s. The creature was much fiercer and infinitely crueler than either of these animals though. Their wingless bodies rippled with scales the same color and the same depth as their shadowy forms, but harder than any blade. These horse-sized voids had fallen into legend thousands of years before with other dark beings. The few who had seen them in living memory were thought mad except by each other and those who knew still the tales told in millennia before when legends were part of everyday life.

Deraine’s king was one who knew those tales, had studied them even, in secret from the old texts in his library. As he neared the change in the forest, his horse shied away from the edge, not wanting to step over the rift between present and past. King Orlin urged her forward while reaching for the silver chain around his neck. On the end hung a silver cage, just large enough to contain a small, perfectly round black opal. He did not look for the shadow serpents. They were everywhere and it would distract him trying to distinguish the void shadows from their imitators. Instead, he focused on eliminating the dark, slippery, hand trying to hold on to his mind, for were that hand to sink in its talons he would be helplessly lost.

He hooked his elbow around the reins and with his now free hand, grasped the opal, hiding its inner fire from view. He focused his mind on it and scorched away the hand.

Several shadows in the surrounding woods materialized into solid forms that only the darkest of dreams would dare reveal. Every form was identical, from the strong legs to the burning eyes, completely black but for the fire within them, like evil rainbows with all the colors twisted together and burning.

His horse whickered softly and backed up, ready to bolt, but was urged onward mercilessly. The black shapes stayed where they were, eyes burning with malice, more at the horse than at the rider. As they rode further on, the shadow-creatures began to disappear. Soon they were all gone and the forest seemed much lighter.

In the distance, the sound of rushing water was heard. It grew steadily louder as man and horse continued on. When they reached the source, a rushing river went through a clearing and over the edge of the mountain in a powerful waterfall that had carved the land for thousands of years.

Dismounting from his horse, King Orlin walked to the shore of the river with her. The river looked to be only fifty feet wide, but the bridge did not look like it would last much longer with the recent increase of bad weather over the past few years. He led his horse to the bridge and carefully took a step on to it. Surprisingly, the wood held his weight without protest. He continued on, leading his horse to the other side slowly. Just over halfway across the bridge the planks sank some from rotting with the moisture. Then behind him, his protesting horse let out a whiny of terror as one of her hooves plummeted through the rotting wood.

The force of her body hitting the bridge caused the section they stood on to break. King Orlin turned and jumped as the bridge collapsed in an attempt to reach the shore. The river was deep, rather than wide, and he half in the river, half on part of the bridge that had not broken, but the strong current pulled him in. Only ten feet from the shore, he struggled through the swollen waters in vain to reach the shore before the swiftly nearing waterfall. Tossed in the waves and pounded on debris, he nearly lost sight of the shore. In a brief moment of reprieve from the current, King Orlin spotted a branch that was nearly directly above him. Using all of his strength, he pushed up from a floating log and out of the water, reaching for the branch. One hand caught it and he miraculously managed to hold on to it. He used his remaining strength to grab it with his other hand as well and swing himself up clear of the water onto the branch and to pull himself along it, away from the river. Three quarters drowned, he fell out of the tree, unconscious, to the soft grass below.

#

In a private study beneath the palace, King Xano paced. He had been pacing for hours, thinking about another person-–an unusual task for him, but at that moment necessary for survival. After all, he had been double-crossed and betrayed to his enemies by one he thought he could trust. Moreover, in this situation it could easily turn out to be a life or death matter, life-–his--being the one thing about which he was truly ever concerned. His enemy, the king of Deraine, now knew the secrets of his country. King Xano was a man of great avarice, self-centered and paranoid. This combination of traits caused him to be a ruler liked by none, but also happened to be what kept him as ruler, as his paranoia was not entirely without reason and protected him from the many who would gladly do away with him and his stupid decisions. Now was not the time for stupid decisions, though.

In a sudden stroke of brilliance, King Xano stopped pacing as it hit him that something probably went wrong on the trip across the mountains and he shouldn’t waste his time thinking of everything else that could have happened. Perhaps, he thought, the thunderstorm that passed us with no problems caused trouble for Deraine’s king in the mountains. On the other hand, he could have been delayed in his departure. Smiling to himself, King Xano decided he would wait another day, and if King Orlin did not arrive by dawn tomorrow, he would speak to Vornen, High Mage of Qahz and the only other Qahzian aware of the dealings with Deraine’s ruler, about devising a scrying spell he could use to find King Orlin.

#

In the Moore Mountains, the sun was rising and light fell on a sleeping man, causing him to stir. He woke up and looked around him, seeing the shadows cast by the mountains and trees, long as they were at dawn. He heard the roar of a river and remembered the events of the previous day. Obviously, his horse had been swept over the waterfall. He crawled over to the cliff edge and peered over. After a few hundred feet, his vision was obscured by mist rising from the pounding water.

King Orlin sighed and crawled back to the tree, leaning against it, exhausted still from the previous day. He would now have to continue to Qahz on foot. He looked around at the mountains to gather an idea of where he was. Not far to the north, he saw a tall mountain, bare for the most part except for a few strong trees ideal for birds of prey. It was Eagles’ Peak, headquarters for the Rogues of Qahz, and King Orlin had connections with their leader. Kaeryn would help him for certain, but he would have to be careful of the other Rogues until Kaeryn met with him.

The king looked at the broken bridge one more time. He would have to take a different route on the journey home, but for now, he just needed to reach Qahz in order to maintain secrecy on his part. This was because King Xano, though he was not bright, was cunning when he had to be careful--and dealing with the rulers of enemy nations was certainly a matter for care. If King Orlin’s true intentions were discovered, he was in a lot of trouble when he arrived in Qahz. He had no protection from magick – the stone he wore could only aid in warding off creatures of the dark – and King Xano had mages at his call. Should Xano have King Orlin scried for, there would be nothing to prevent the discovery of his true intentions should he be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

King Orlin stood up and searched for the overgrown path to Eagles’ Peak. In the process, he stepped on a twig, which snapped loudly, startling a bird. The bird flew off and King Orlin watched it do so, thinking of how to be sure of safe arrival. From the Rogues’ headquarters, he could send messenger birds, one to Qahz explaining the delay and not to worry, and the other to Deraine telling them he would be a week or two late in returning. He could perfect the story later, for now he did not need to concern himself with time so much.

With newly found strength, King Orlin started hiking through the mountains towards the Rogues in the north. After walking for a few hours, he rested against a thick tree. Looking up through a clearing in the trees’ branches, he saw that the sun was high in the sky. Though he could not see Eagles’ Peak, he knew he was nearing it. If he had judged the distance right, he would reach it just after sunset, though perhaps later for he had no food or water with him and was hungry, thirsty, and tired after the long hike. All he could do to help alleviate these was to chew on blades of grass and other edible plants. Several hours later as the sun was setting, the foliage began to thin out and he knew he was very near Eagles’ Peak. In the last rays of light, he climbed a tree to try to spot the cluster of trees where the trees were thicker and the buildings could be hidden. The tree he ascended was tall and strong – a middle-aged tree without too many branches, but enough that he did not have to struggle to climb from limb to limb. Several tens of feet up he stopped, unable to climb higher without the branches breaking. Looking up towards the mountain, he identified the area of his destination. There was a chance that he would meet a patrol looking for intruders if he continued on, so he decided to do so, though night was nearly upon him and the light was poor. With any luck, Kaeryn would know where he was and a patrol would find him.

He began his climb down the tree, but it seemed he had misjudged the strength of the branches at his elevation. In order to get a better angle at descending, he moved to a branch to his right. It creaked as he shifted his weight to it, but seemed to hold so he continued to it slowly. A wind blew through the treetops and he placed his weight on the branch suddenly. This time it snapped from the instantaneous weight, and King Orlin fell towards the ground with it. He grabbed for branches as he fell and managed to slow his fall some, enough that when he hit the ground below, he did not die. The ground was hard and he landed on his right arm, dislocating the shoulder. Rolling over to his back with a grimace, he reached with his left hand for the chain around his neck, making sure it, the cage, and the stone within were there. With the knowledge that they were safe, he blacked out.

#

King Xano rose early and saw the first rays of the sun peeking over the distant horizon. Knowing that the mages there rose early, he summoned High Mage Vornen to the observatory immediately. He left his chambers and took a walk through the spring gardens that were just beginning to show color other than the green of leaves and the brown of tree bark. To the servant accompanying him, he absent-mindedly the poet in him spoke of the beauty.

“Just look at the spring lilies with their pastel petals like a pale summer sunset; and the little pink-tinted cherry blossoms preparing to, one day, burst open with joy.” Breathing deeply, the gentle wind brought him the scent of melting mountain snow and the land awakening from its winter slumber.

Then somewhere in the distance, a raven called out, bringing King Xano back to the real world. With one last look at the life around him, he followed a path to a pair of intricately decorated doors through which he passed--bidding the servant to remain outside--into the observatory where High Mage Vornen was awaiting his word.

Vornen bowed and King Xano began bluntly in hushed tones, “Our friend from the west is running late. Some ill may have befallen him, in which case we need to know and find him. If something has not befallen him, it’s all the more important for in that case we need to be on our guard. Prepare a scrying spell in private and tell me the results as soon as you find them.”

“As you command, Sire,” replied the High Mage. “It will take a while to perform the spell because I will be the only one working on it and scrying is not one of my talents, but I will have the results for you by sunset.”

“You are dismissed then. Begin work immediately.”

Vornen bowed and left the room. After he had exited and the door behind him was shut, King Xano sighed with relief. “I know you’ll do well, old friend,” he muttered to the absent mage. King Xano would know King Orlin’s fate before the sun had set in the sky that night.

He turned to the wall and examined a tapestry that hung there. It showed an ancient battle where Qahz and Deraine fought side by side for the first and last time since the Power had come again. King Xano thought about the story he had learned as a youth.

The Power had withered the bonds of friendship between the two kingdoms never to be rebuilt by the proud leaders. Before the Power took absolute control over the land, he had worked his way into the political system and influenced the minds of the rulers in order to make it easier to take control of their lands. Reluctantly, the humans who led the rebellions in the beginning had joined the people from both countries and fought for their lives and freedom. However, the Power used this as an opportunity to sever the ties of Deraine and Qahz even further. Inevitably, he and his unnatural armies won the battle and, through use of spies, caused even more distrust and hate between his enemies. If they’d had the resources, they would have gone to war with each other then, but they had to focus on surviving and, much later, rebuilding their nations.

The tapestry showed the climax of the battle when the Power’s forces erupted and overtook the humans, like ocean waves approaching high tide on a steep shore. Only a few strong, lucky warriors survived the battle to tell of their defeat, stories which were twisted in retellings to lay blame of the defeat upon the neighboring nation. Eventually, that tale and all the other stories became lost in legend, along with the Power himself, when he was finally defeated somehow after hundreds of years--a story King Xano did not know. “Now creatures of legends lurk in shadows once more,” Xano murmured with a strange look in his eyes. “And the dawns grow darker.”