Story Time Ladies

G typing,
So its storytime!!! Who is ready? Well here is what i have so far. Maybe not the best writing, you guys write better than this. But its just something i felt like doing. I am open to new ideas, dont be afraid. Ill take anything, and if it works then ill incorporate in into the story. Ideas can be for chapter 3 or either of these two first chapters. I included the first one again because i tweaked it a little. So here it is. Hope you enjoy, and please any suggestions.

By G

~ Chapter One ~

A blanket of numerous bright stars stretched across the dark, midnight sky, while the moon rose through the progressing night, battling the incoming shadows. Its light reflected throughout the shaded land, yet the desolate country has an illuminated figure rapidly traversing the rough terrain. Even though the creature traveled at a speed unrecognizable to man, the radiating noise was that of soft, rustling grass. An owl’s hoot was still expected to break the eerie silence that consumed the land.

            Carrion! The smell was horrendous, a simple whiff could sting any man’s respiratory paths, was scattered over the subtle rolling hills. However, the figure continued to move as if the stench did not penetrate its ability to react to death’s odor. Within the minute, the creatures of the dark suddenly made an appearance to this atrocious scenery. Rats scurried over the deeply-worn paths, awaiting the figure’s approach, and off in the distance the owl’s sharp screech was finally audible. The moon continued to rise, creating a clearer image of the country’s remains- limbs and mutilated human bodies lay across soil tainted with the blood of countless. Death’s devastation was visible.

            Among the bloody remains, a body near an open path was the only one found intact, but not a single breath was taken. This man, for he was a man, possessed incredible youth whose features lacked the sharp angle from one who has witnessed years of fighting. A hint of roundness formed his cheeks, the wind-blown hair was a light brown, the nose rounded at the tip, and his open eyes were a green brighter than the spring grass. The corpse was thoroughly clothed in violet garb, with a bow and partially-filled quiver of arrows tightly strapped across his right shoulder. A blooming life lost in the grasp of an initiating war.

            A gust of wind pulled the cloak away, revealing the deeply-embedded symbol of Errlanda, a redwood arrow deflected from the marvelous shield of Brutus, upon a silver chest plate. A single family was known to carry this distinguishing symbol, and it is troubling to think that one from this long line of success has fallen prey to the ambitions of another. The young man was not a common fighter, but the royal Prince Xander on his return trip of his “coming-of-age” ceremony.

            It is tradition for all future male heirs to the royal line demonstrate their strength and courage through a series of potentially fatal tasks. Once the young prince has completed the three tasks, they are honored with the violet cloak of the kings of past.

            First task: Navigate a large vessel through a trail of strong, rushing currents, leading a group of four score men. By completing this task the young prince will demonstrate leadership and control during a difficult circumstance.

            Second task: The kingdom’s Master Swordsman will face the prince under various strenuous and surprising conditions, in which the professional has the advantage. This task measures strategy when outmatched.

            Final task: The heir to the throne must survive a span of five weeks in the midst of bare land, with no weapon. Courage is the main goal of the task.

Prince Xander was the first in this long line to show strategy and wit beyond man’s comprehension.

            After what seemed to last a second, the figure finally arrives. It dismounts it’s gorgeous black steed and makes its way towards the still body; the horse cautiously following its master.

            The individual suddenly pulls back the hood of a flowing, cobalt blue cloak, revealing slightly pointed ears and a flawless face with eyes the shade of the vast, clear-blue sea. The thin lips appeared to be several shades darker than the palest pink, but lighter than an abnormal red. Strong muscles lightly covered the face, providing prominent features of confidence, strength, and strong-will. Yet, anyone given the opportunity of being in the presence of this figure would doubt that such mythical creature can truly exist.

            Within seconds the heavily-fortified confidence deteriorates, giving way to tears streaming down the young lady’s smooth cheeks. From the tears, one can determine that genuine emotions bonded these two individuals, but destiny’s hand severed this tie beyond possible repair. The lady, Myrina, kneels in front of Prince Xander and is overwhelmed by tremendous grief; her petite figure vigorously shaken with silent sobs.

            Several hours pass…

~ Chapter Two ~

The tears ceased to appear, leaving Myrina with red, puffy eyes and an enormous feeling of emptiness within her heart. After the first few hours passed, Myrina shifted from her kneeling position to one of sitting, where she set her forehead against the top of her bent knees. Gradually, Myrina lifts her head and with great sadness etched on her appearance stares out into the dark night, expecting the sun to rise. The reason behind the consuming sorrow was unknown.

            Rays of light are detected as the moon starts to fall into the horizon and the sun assumes control of the temporary space. Myrina stands, silently shaking accumulating debris from her cloak. With cautious steps, Myrina takes a few steps away from the motionless body, acutely analyzing her surroundings. Apart from the corpses of both men and horse, there were broken carts and materials strewn throughout. Taking a few more steps, Myrina glances to her right and an odd object immediately captures her attention; she races forward and gathers a leather-bound journal.

            Struggling with the tightly-sealed clasp, Myrina manages to open the journal that may contain unimaginable written secrets. Taking the hard cover’s corner, Myrina exposes the first page. She sees a drawn image of Prince Xander standing next to a beautiful girl, both clothed in training gear. Myrina glances over the image, gently swiping the tips of her fingers over the similar, yet different faces. Xander’s facial expression portrayed mischief and unbounded joy, while the girl of possibly twelve years showed innocence and immense curiosity.

            As she carefully flips to the following page, Myrina sees a piece of folded parchment slip from between the journal. Crouching to retrieve it, Myrina notices her name scrawled across the top in elegant writing

Myrina

Setting the journal into one of the multiple pouches stretched over her horse’s back, Myrina unfold the parchment and reads the letter addressed to her person.

            Myrina,

I have completed the third and final task, now I am a man worthy of leading this country to success and triumph against all obstacles. The challenge called for my wits and courage, but what truly assisted me was the thought of returning home, returning to you. I have missed the nightly trips to the kitchen where an enormous chocolate cake awaits us. Remember when Avery tripped after she chased us with her favorite wooden spoon? I am thrilled. I am prepared to assume the responsibility of (need a name for kingdom; suggestions) as king. Even though the men chant my name with enthusiasm, I can’t help but feel heart-wrenching worry. I believe grave danger approaches our land, for the winds are churning and the clouds gathering with ominous speed. This will be a danger none of our people have witnessed before; but our courageous hearts and determination will see us through. However, the thought that worries me the most, dear sister, is that I will not return. I hope I can personally deliver this information instead of this letter. Therefore, if you are reading this, then your rebellious and struggled heart has led you on an expedition to search for me, yet you were greeted with my possible death. I truly hope this feeling is simply the result of approaching coronation day jitters, and I will be seeing you soon. Always remember, “The heart has the potential to lead us to our greatest achievements and adventure, but it also has the ability to lead us into difficult situations.” This may not make sense now, but what I’m attempting to say is, follow your feelings. Take care Myrina, lead our people to safety by conquering this incoming darkness. You are their only hope. Don’t falter under the criticisms and ignorance of others; use your unique personality to do your best.

With love,

---Xander---

Myrina’s posture drops as tears were threatening to overwhelm her once again. Her horse, Rameere, moves closer to Myrina and she takes hold of his neck to regain her balance. With the passing, silent minutes, a look of anger spreads across, consuming her sorrowful physiognomy. The girl who once stole chocolate cake with Prince Xander and played with her hair, disappeared within mere seconds, in her place was a young woman accepting her brother’s unfinished duty.

With a swift and graceful movement, Myrina mounts her horse and travels away from the setting sun, leaving the last tie to her family.