《Crowned Shadows》


 Prologue

    The heavens above start to open as the trickle of rain drops lightly tapping on my head start to become faster and heavier. I lift my face to the darkening sky. Strands of matted hair slowly adhere to my skin as the light shower turns into a torrential down pour.


    A deep ache has settled within my body. The slow burn grows, snaking its unwelcomed tendrils from my shoulders upwards along my arms. The coldness of the metal enclosing my hands races from my fingers down my arms. The two different sensations clash sending my nerves into overdrive. The familiarity of pain settles deep within my mind.


    This is what I know.


    The bitter frigid wind circles around. Creeping with icy wisps through my torn and battered flesh into my bones, freezing to the core. The cuts along my skin throb as the water flows down carrying all the dirt and debris along its path. The earth beneath gradually turns from hardened dirt to slush as the rain continues.


    Low deep rumbles of thunder roll overhead. My skin twitches as the air tingles with the faint traces of electricity. The storm is growing. My cheeks start to burn from the bruises and split skin as a smile slowly edges its way onto my face. The voices that once were muffled from the ringing in my ears start to clear as my body becomes more alive with the storm.


    ¡®¡­is here by accused of being guilty of conspiring against the crown with the attempted murder of his Royal Highness the Crown Prince of Laventia¡­ the punishment for this crime is¡­¡¯


    Inhaling as the crowd turn loud and hysterical over the sentencing. Trying to slow my racing heart as every word that is read fuels the shouts of hatred from the gathering mass of onlookers. The smile in fully planted on my face, never faltering as the crowd¡¯s energy surges with the prospect of a violent punishment approaching.


    The sound of a sword being unsheathed filters through the shouts and screams to my ears. Turning to face the weapon, I track along the sword to the hand grasped around it. Following the arm covered in chainmail to the polished chest plate adorned with the royal coat of arms, engraved over the heart. I continue my gaze till I meet my so-called victims. With sword in hand, he approaches where I am restrained. A grim look firmly planted on his features masking his true nature.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Not once does my stare leave him. I track every movement till he stands beside me. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the slight rational fear of what is yet to come I look back towards the gathering before us. The sword cuts in front of me forming a barrier between myself and the crowd. As it hovers in between I see my eyes staring back at me in the reflection. Before I can be swallowed up within the emotions swimming in my gaze a sudden flash of bright light catches my attention.


    In an instance my whole body awakens. The breath I had been holding slips past my lips. The once faint tingling trace electricity in the air now is charged. Bouncing along my skin sending my nerves into a happy euphoria. Feeling charged and unstoppable as the storm has reaches its peak I flick my sight back to my executioner. His whole body stiffens under my gaze, its mask slipping from his face. He pulls his sword back ready to attack. Before it could make its deathly strike one word slips under my breath.


    ¡®Morabor.¡¯ Suddenly the world around me slows down as if surrounded in a thick syrup. Summoning all my remaining strength a pull on the chains connected to the metal enclosed on my hands. The metal gives way, and my hands slip free.  As I fall into the sludge beneath me the world kicks back into gear and returns to normal.


    The realisation of my freedom has now registered in the mind of the princeling. He drives his sword at my slumped form on the ground, trying to skewer my battered body. My body moves like water, missing the blade. The instinct to survive is deeply woven into every being of my body. Once clear of the danger I standoff facing the most prominent danger. Crackling reaches my ears as the feeling of warmth races through my fingers.  With every beat of my heart throbbing in my head, the heat in my hands pulse.


    As the prince starts to charge towards me I throw my hands in front unleashing the power that had been growing in my hands. Lightening shoots out. It hits the ground in such a force that an explosion of dirt and sparks causes everyone in the area to be blown back by the blast front; I am driven back hard into a tree trunk causing all the wind in my body to leave in one large gush. My vision fades in and out from the force of hitting the tree. I sluggishly stumble back up onto my feet. A quick glimpse of the area around me as I cast my eyes from place to place. As my vision starts diminishing more with each blink I make my deeper into the forest with the certain hope that the Crown Prince is not stupid enough to follow.


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 Chapter One

    Darkness is my only accomplice now. The shadows hide truth, honesty, and coat them in the slickness of lies and deceit. With my eyes closed I can escape the world of shadows and find comfort in the darkness. Or so I hope.


    The warmth from the sun filters through in broken fragments from the dense forest canopy above. Joyful chirping of birds¡¯ drifts along the air with their heartfelt songs. Grass blades gentle prick and tickle my skin. Everything feels calm and steady again after the storm. Its only reminders being the dampness soaked into my clothing and skin. The wounds have stared to heal in places, my body aching all over from the events over the past few days.


    Gradually opening my eye and looking at the canopy above be. Birds dart in and out again, their feathers shimmering when they catch the fragments of sunlight. Gently turning my head to the side, the grass beneath pricks into my skin. I prepare to roll myself over and sit up. A short gasp escapes through my dry cracked lips as my whole body stretches its muscles and I feel some of the wounds start to crackle open. My skin feels like it is too tight and small to fit my body as if it is being pulled out to its limits. My bones feel centuries old after the abuse they have been under, like they could crumble in a strong breeze.


    The faint trickle of fresh blood down my back and arms is cooled by the slight breeze that weaves its way through the trees and bushes carrying with it a desolate icy void. It feels heavier, denser as if it trying to force me to feel something that is not there. It does not belong here. Standing on shaky legs, clutching possibly a few broken ribs. Sending sharp reminders with every breath I take.


    The birds above follow and continue their tunes, bobbing and weaving through the trees, in and out of the canopy. They seem unusually cheerful compared to the breeze that haunts my slow and painful stumbling walk. After hours of walking in circle after circle I trip over another protruding tree root and tumble down finding myself rolling into a small clear area by a stream that I could hear for hours but never find. Deciding its best to stop and catch some much need rest I drag myself over to a fallen log just on the edge of the clearing near the stream, few minutes with my eyes closed is just what I need to help my body feel rejuvenated enough to keep going.


    ?


    Did I say to stop?!¡¯


    ¡®No Papa.¡¯


    ¡®What did you call me?¡¯


    ¡®Papa.¡¯ The sting from the slap causes tears to form in my eyes, but they do not fall. I cannot let them fall.


    ¡®Let us try that again. Did I say to stop?¡¯


    ¡®No Sir.¡¯


    ¡®Then why have you stopped?¡¯


    ¡®Because I¡¯m tired Sir.¡¯


    With another slap to the other cheek, I squeeze my eyes shut as hard as I can to hold back tears that threaten to fall.


    ¡®You will continue until I say to stop, otherwise the punishment for disobeying will be far worse. Am I clear?¡¯


    ¡®Yes Sir.¡¯ The words tumble out of my mouth as an automatic reply.


    ¡®Good. Now Again.¡¯ I stand in position and grab the weights, holding them out away from my body. Sweat already starting to form on my forehead and the back of my neck. The heat in the room from the raging fire, intensifying more with the strain.


    ?


    I felt my fear before I hear my own strangled cries. My nightmare pulses around me, shaking me out of what I was hoping to be a dreamless sleep. Images tumble through my mind: fire and blood, the smell of smoke and sweat, the twisted turmoil strung tightly in my stomach. The memories wrap around me, my ears ringing from the aftereffects of the slaps. The heat from the fire curling up and around my face, hot enough to burn. The smoke suffocating me, making me gasp for each breath; until some rational part of my mind unaffected from the memories reminds me that this is not real. That they are just memories.


    I wake up, strands of long dark hair sticking to my forehead; the sun that was once blazing down on me is now replaced by the ghostly glow from the crescent moon. Its haunting light quietly creeps through the strangled twisted branches above. The illusion of a tranquil forest gone. Replaced with its true nature. I could still hear my own strangled cries and the ear ringing slaps from the nightmare, slowly fading back into the depths of my subconscious.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Shuffling to my right makes me bolt straight up and move a few slight feet away from the noise. All the while I try to keep the painful cry of moving too quickly from slipping through my cracked lips.


    ¡®Easy, gentlemen¡­ keep focused, she cannot have gotten too far.¡¯ The shuffling soon turned into more distinguished footsteps. The crunching of decaying underbrush beneath the heavy boots thundering in time to my heartbeat. The steady thumping of my heart slowly increases as the footsteps come closer and closer. Fear crept little by little into my bones, paralyzing me in place.


    They followed me in. This was not good. My gaze flickering around with each new sound that my ears catch. It takes everything in my power to focus on what is going on around me,  I sluggishly regain movement of my limbs and begin to move away from the approaching soldiers. I gradually make my way along the soft, muddy bank of the stream, to the other side of the clearing. Just as my hand touches the bark of a tree; an arrow shoots past me, just kissing my cheek opening a new gash to join the old ones, before implanting itself into the tree a few inches higher than my hand.


    My head turns so quickly from the arrow in the tree to the other side of the clearing where I see a young solider; swiftly knocking a new arrow into his bow.


    ¡®She is over here!¡¯ He shouts as he takes aim. His eyes squinting with malice intent as he calmly inhales with his draw of the arrow. The sliding of the wooden arrow being drawn back along the bow is silent, as the thundering stampede of boots and the dull shouts of other men fill the air.


    A lone tear slides down my cheek, stopping on the fresh cut from the arrow. Caught hanging precariously on the jagged edge. The thundering stampede of the soldier¡¯s boots and shouts slow down and quieten as they all make themselves known at the edge of the clearing behind the bowman. The measured draw of steel being removed from its home inside its sheath rings loudly through the quiet clearing. The solid wall of soldier¡¯s part without command behind the bowman, making way for their leader. His sword held firm in his hand. Catching fragments of the moonlight as it falls through the branches. Glistening as if covered in diamonds. His careful steady walk comes to a stop a couple of feet in front of the bowman.


    My eyes finally leave the glimmering sword and meet the eyes of its owner. The cold fire that shines brightly force me to hold my gaze. The need to look away and back down is strong, but it only causes me to continue to defy him, to show no weakness. I will not fold. Not to him. A sadistic smile slowly makes its way onto his face as he notices my condition. One hand supporting most of my weight stretched out onto the tree just below the arrow. The other curled around my chest to try and reduce the burning pressure of a few broken ribs. My whole torso slightly hunched over from the pain. My legs visibly shaking in effort to keep myself from collapsing into an unceremonious heap on the ground. Clothes torn into tattered rags, hanging hazardously to my frame. Dried blood, mud, and sweat caked to my visible skin.


    ¡®Now¡­ you do not look so powerful to me,¡¯ his icy tone echoes across the clearing to my ears. ¡®In fact, you almost look pitiful¡­.¡¯ His eyes gleam in merit at this.


    For the first time I look away from his gaze to the young bowman. His face shows only the slightest hint of strain. His knuckles clenched so tightly to the bow and arrow. The force of his grip seen only ever so slightly, as the string from the bow gradually starts to cut its way into his fingers. The little trickle of blood noticeable in the moonlight. Arms quaking lightly in fatigue. Eyes flicker once from me to his leader, hoping for some sort of signal to either stand down or release the arrow; before landing back on me. A sheen coat of sweat gathers on his forehead, shimmering in the moonlight. He inhales with relief as a small gust of icy frigid wind cools him. I shiver when the icy gust swirls around my body.


    The Crown Prince chuckles lowly when he notices my shiver. Unaware of his young bowman struggling to hold his weapon. I flicker my gaze back and forth to the prince and bowman. My concern now being the young soldier rather than his leader. I carefully start to straighten my body in preparation, carefully sliding one foot behind, ready to move when needed. The prince notices my change in stance and the direction of my gaze no longer focusing on him. He carefully turns his gaze away from me to the young soldier. Just as he catches a glimpse of the bowman, he releases the arrow with a curse.


    The prince¡¯s head whips around to follow the arrow in disbelief. I catch a quick glimpse of pure rage in his eyes before I remember the need to move. I was not quick enough. The arrow just misses my heart only to lodge in my shoulder. I scream out in pure agony. I look up at the prince before deciding that I would rather take on the forest than him. Gathering my remaining strength I take off into the shadows of the forest.


    Shouts of anger, the quick wet slice, and heavy thud that follow behind me only spur me to move faster. Heavy footsteps soon follow, crunching leaves and snapping fallen twigs. My lungs burning in pain for more air. Black spots slowly start to appear in my line of sight. The warm blood flowing steadily down my arm, curling around my motionless fingers.


    ¡®Leave her. She is not worth it. The Forest will finish her off!¡¯ The prince¡¯s command resonances through the trees. The footfalls behind me fade away as I continue further into the forest.


    Gradually the black spots start to take over more of my sight. My breathing starts to turn shallower than before. I stumble over a tree root and collapse into a heap on the ground. Pushing the arrow further when I land on it. A scream passes my chapped lips into the dirt. I turn my head to the side to try and catch some more air for my laboured breaths. As my eyes start to fall shut against my will, I see a yellow glow form. Quiet footfalls reach my straining ears. A blurred shadow appears in the light as I try to move away. A hand reaches out and cups my face. My body gives out and stops struggling as the warm hand turns my head to face them. The blurred being even more unrecognizable as I start to drift off to unconsciousness.


    ¡®You are safe now¡­¡¯ The shadow gently whispers into my ear as I finally give into my body¡¯s demand and allow myself to be swallowed into the darkness once again.

 Chapter Two

    Three days. That is how long I have been laying here awake. Swaying to the uneven rock of the floor of the carriage as it travels along the road. Every bump, dip and swerve flaring every muscle in body. The straps holding me down to the makeshift stretcher barely help keep one steady pressure across my healing body.


    Three nights. That is how many times I have seen the stars. Glistening above like forbidden gems precariously scattered across dark velvet night sky; before being moved into the patched-up canvas tent.


    Multiple faces pass above me. All blurred. Too quickly for my eyes to focus. Voices sound as if being filtered through layers of wool. As more voices join each other in conversation, the more jumble and confusion follows in my mind.


    Water and soup pass over my lips during the day. Overnight everything from that day passes back across my lips. Fever and sickness hold firm over my body during those long painful hours of darkness; only to leave as soon as the sun kisses the night sky away with its golden rays. My body comes out from the long nights slightly more healed of its wounds. My mind comes out more tired and frazzled than the day before; merely to fix the scattered thoughts that flitter through my head giving me some form of normal sanity before the night comes again.


    ¡®She is healing remarkably fast, brother.¡¯ A young woman¡¯s voice sounds distantly from my left, though I can feel the heat radiating from her body right next to me. I vaguely hear something shuffle to my right, before a man¡¯s face appears above my head into my line of sight. My vision still slightly blurred. But I can focus enough to see his deep brown eyes staring directly into my own.


    ¡®Yes, her body is healing quite well; but her mind is still scattered and unstable.¡¯ His face disappears from my sight.


    ¡®That is normal though, you know this.¡¯ The young woman¡¯s voice starts to sound clearer as I concentrate as much as I can to their voices.


    ¡®I understand this but¡­¡¯


    ¡®Give her a few more days. By then her body will be fully recovered and her mind should be more stable and on the mend.¡¯


    ¡®I hope you are right sister¡­¡¯ The man¡¯s voice slowly fades away as he moves away from my hearing range.


    Slowly the woman¡¯s face comes into view. Most of her face slightly blurred just like the man¡¯s face before; and just like the man¡¯s face I can see her eyes clear enough when I focus hard enough. Her hazel eyes crinkle around the outer edges in what I am assuming is happiness as she stares into my eyes. The laughter lines slowly fade away as she notices the fearful and confused look in my eyes. A sense of sadness fills her eyes as I continue to look into hers without blinking.


    ¡®Only a few more days and you will be fully recovered.¡¯ The young woman tells me. Only she cannot look my in the eyes as she says it. The words falling on my ears sounding like lies. Before she disappears.


    The feel of a cool and wet washcloth rubs against my forehead, clearing away the sweat and filth from the night before as well as cooling my skin. It comforts me enough that I close my eyes, as my wearied mind and body start to drift off to sleep and the darkness consumes once more.


    ?


    ¡®Of course, your grace. We will¡­¡¯ Shouts from outside capture my attention from the conversation my father and his grace are having.


    Silently I walk over to the open window at the edge of the room. Looking out I notice there is a small group of people in the courtyard below. Most are bent over struggling to catch their breath, hands on their knees. A few are standing looking around the group. Two people stand off to the side in the shadow cast from the barracks awning; slightly away from the group, enough to be a part of it but far enough to have a private conversation.


    A few minutes pass before they emerge back out into the sun and joined the group. One slightly older than everyone there, he was clad in brown leather jerkin with straps and buckles on the front that reflected in the sunlight. It was worn over the top of a now slightly discoloured white tunic. He also had dark-coloured baggy pants that slimed down to be tucked neatly into a pair of dark leather boots. Around his waist was a leather twin belt from which hung a pouch, probably filled with coins; as well as two weapons which I had never thought I would see with my own eyes. His dagger and sword were both of elven make, rare for these parts of the kingdom.


    Elves are known for their grace, which encompassed not only in their movement and their clothing, but also their weapons. The two blades are stripped down in their designs, which take away all unnecessary elements of a common sword. This leaves behind the two most important parts ¨C a slender curved blade for slicing and a suede wrapped grip for wielding. Nothing else is needed.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    His companion was dressed like everyone else in the yard. He wore a simple tunic and a pair of dark-colored baggy pants tucked into a pair of leather boots; and just like all the others in the yard his tunic and pants were sticking to him from sweat. He was younger than his companion in the leather jerkin. His weapon was just a common training sword. Enough to hurt when hit but not cause severe damage.


    The young man walked over and stood amongst the others as the elder gentleman circled around to stand on top of a small crate to gather everybody¡¯s attention.


    ¡®That was a disgrace!¡¯ He shouted at the group.


    ¡®We will continue to practice this until you all get it right.¡¯ He glanced around at every person in the crowd before him.


    ¡®Again!¡¯ His voice bellowed out causing a few men in the group to flinch. They all slowly disperse to start the training session again.


    ¡®A little pathetic will not you agree?¡¯ My sister had obviously seen my distraction and wonder over to see what was happening. I cast my eyes to my sister, whose gaze is focused down below, before turning to look over my shoulder to see my father and the king still engrossed in their conversation.


    ¡®Somewhat.¡¯ I say as I cast my eyes back to my sister before looking back down into the courtyard.


    Now the group have formed a large circle with the young gentleman from earlier in the center. At first nothing is happening; then as if a surge of adrenaline has hit, two of the men from the circle rush forward to the young gentleman. As if it is without thought his body anticipates every move his opponents make. But to my eyes and that of my sisters it almost seems too rehearsed. The young gentleman obviously has some skill but at this rate his training will get him nowhere. Not if no one is willing to engage him in combat.


    ¡®Who is that?¡¯ I nod to the young man before turning to my sister. A small smirk is present on her face before she senses my gaze and turns to look at me.


    ¡®Why it¡¯s the Crown Prince, dear sister.¡¯ That silly smirk gracing her face again. I roll my eyes at her turning back to look out the window.


    After knocking his final opponent over and placing his training sword at his throat, signaling the end of the fight; the older gentleman from earlier walked over shaking his head. Talking to the young prince congratulating him one a pointless win.


    As if sensing our gaze both of their heads swivel up to look at us. They squint hard in the sunlight. The young prince throws his hand up to cover his eyes to help him see better. Once he can see us a little better a sly grin slips onto his face. Turning to the older companion to resume their conversation. I step back away from the window with my sister and notice that our father and the king have left us both alone in the room, notably finished with their discussion. My sister catches my eye with a knowing grin before gesturing to the door.


    ¡®Shall we grace his royal highness the Crown Prince with our presence, dear sister?¡¯ Her eyes sparkle with hidden mischief. Feeling the same knowing grin slipping onto my face I turn away from my sister and make my way over to the door. Grasping the cool metal handle in my grip. I turn back to look at my sister.


    ¡®Let us dear sister,¡¯ I say turning the handle. ¡®And let us see just how well he is with that sword.¡¯ My sister¡¯s laughter trailing behind me as I exit the room and walk down the hall.


    ?


    Laughter is what I hear when wake. Different from that of my sister¡¯s. More joyous, full of wonder. Opening my eyes I squint from the bright light filling the tent. I subconsciously lift my hand to shield my eyes from the light and notice I can move without pain. Holding my hand up in front of my eyes I study my hand as roll my fingers in and out of a fist waiting for the pain. Slowly I roll my head to the side, and I can see the opening for the tent left slightly ajar. I continue to look at the tent flaps as I gradually sit up; feeling every muscle as it stretches. The tightness left in them from being left unmoving for so long.


    Sitting up on the edge of the makeshift bed I look around the inside of the tent and notice fresh clothing laid out on a chair, next to the chair is a table with a bowl with a piece of cloth and jug of water. Seeing no one else in the tent I slowly make my way over and shift the clothing and take a seat on the chair I take the jug and pour some of the water into the bowl with the cloth.


    After cleaning all the dirt and grime from travel and healing, I dress in the garments left for me. A simple forest green vest, a cream-colored chemise style blouse with a ruffled neckline and ruffled sleeves worn underneath, along with some dark-coloured trousers. Looking around I find a scrap bit of cloth laying across the table that I use to tie my hair up away from face.


    ¡®I¡¯m glad to see you are feeling well.¡¯ The voice of a young woman sounds from behind me. Fastening the belt, I found lying on the table, I turn to look at her.


    It is the same woman who tended to me through my sickness. Looking at her now, I can she just a couple of years older than me. Her clothing like my own and her hair is braided away from her face. Her eyes crinkle with the friendly smile that is present on her face.


    Turning away from her I look around the tent in search of footwear to leave in. Walking barefoot will last for so long.


    ¡®There should be some boots beside the bed.¡¯ She walks over to the table to collect the bowl and jug as I walk over to the bed.


    Like the woman had said there were boots beside the bed. Sitting on the edge, I bend over cautiously still waiting for the pain to return. With no pain I quickly slip the boots on, I hear her shuffling around before I look up and see her by the opening of the tent.


    ¡®He wishes to see you. You know where to find him.¡¯ Her smile faltering on her face as she gazes from me to the floor before leaving through the opening.


    Sighing I cast my gaze to lap, where I was fiddling with my hands. Thoughts swirling in my head along with a faint haunting voice. Cringing from the sudden pain as I try to focus on the chaos in my head, I stand. I walk over to the opening a look out at the campgrounds before me. People bustling about their daily chores and routines. The familiarity registering deep within me. Breathing in deeply I throw the tent flap aside step out into the rising sunlight. Trying to prepare myself as I make my way through the camp.