One

My first chapter of the new book I'm writing.

Zin, Carric, and Adran rummaged through their backpacks.  Together they had one hundred and twenty gold pieces in Zamso currency, the traditional currency of the three lands.

Three lands. It was considered the polite term these days. The empire of the night and the illuminated kingdom were located in the north of the mainland, while the elven forests in the south found a spot next to the ever-growing human kingdoms in the east.  The three companions had grown to hate humans.  Two years had passed since the war, since Zin’s bow and his draconic friend Ilumina’s sword had collectively killed the deadly dragon known as Voidsnare.  Now Zin knew the truth of what had happened, and he hated Ilumina for it.

Voidsnare hadn’t been trying to destroy Zin and his friends until Ilumina had seen a prophecy and decided that meant that Voidsnare was destined to be evil.  Ilumina’s actions due to that prophecy had been what had fulfilled it.  Now history knew Voidsnare as evil, but in truth it was Ilumina.  Zin, Carric, and Adran realized that.

Before, everything had been so simple.  Good, evil... now the young, troubled ranger wasn’t sure that these words had any real meaning.  Some said that everybody is a little of both.

The way Zin saw the condition of the world today, everybody was evil.

Including the dragons.

And the humans.

Humans... in those two years since the end of the war, the human kingdoms had grown tired of their alliance with the elves, and had decided to cut them down.  Thousands of forests fell to the cruel axe and fire of man.  Of course, the elves had resisted, but there was only so much they could do with bows and bolts of lightning against thousands upon thousands of heavily armored, disposable soldiers.  Compared to the twelve thousand elves remaining alive, there were millions upon millions of humans, and they were multiplying like vermin.

Even now Zin, his brother and his friend were all hiding from the man that was leading a search for them.  Nix’s brother, William, had decided that his brother was a traitor and an idiot, and branded all elves as evil abominations.  He’d begun exterminating them one by one, wherever he could find them.  But Zin and his friends had attempted to stop him.  And they had succeeded for now, which of course brought the knight to particularly target them.

A voice shouted through the darkness, “Elf!  Elf!  I can see him down in there!”  Adran smiled, for the guards had let the fake fool them.  Another voice:

“That’s not an elf, you idiot, that’s a sack of grain!”

“No, captain, it be an elf!”

A scowl could be heard.  Exasperated, the captain yelled back.  “Hey,” he said, “Look back here!”  Zin looked toward the door.  Adran glanced around nervously.  Carric crouched up against the wall in panic and grief.

Something slammed against the door.  “Open up in there!” said a gruff voice.  

“Like they’ll do that!  They’re damn elves, and they aren’t about to let us kill them without first trying to stab us.  Watch your backs, but first watch this.”  Something else slammed against the door as this voice was spoken, and splinters began to split off from the wood.

Zin was looking around, panicked.  The door’s not going to hold the door’s not going to hold the door’s not going to hold... That was all he could think.  He was about to die, here, in this dark storeroom.  And so was his brother.  Splinters were coming off of the door as it strained from the weight of whatever was hitting it.  A loud groan resounded throughout the room.

The door gave way, and several men came spilling through.  One of them, carrying a large battering ram of sorts, fell to the ground with the force of his own strike.  The other five held spears.  “Where are they?” shouted one, caught up in the confusion.

“Ah, you idiot,” another retorted.  “They’re right there!”  The man pointed straight toward Zin.  The elf stood up and held up his hands.

“Please,” he said.  “We have done nothing to harm you or your friends.”  At this the man with the battering ram laughed hard.  The six of them formed a tight phalanx, then began to march slowly towards Zin, Carric and Adran.  The sun shone through a window in the hallway outside the storeroom, and it made the soldiers’ weapons gleam.

Zin sighed and brought two daggers into his hands.  “I really would rather not kill you,” he said quietly.  Carric quickly placed an arrow on his bow and drew back the string.  Adran let his big sword slide off of the sheath on his back.  He held it two-handed, with the blade pointed straight up.

“Leave us alone,” he declared, “and we’ll leave you alone.”  The blade glittered slightly, and he swung it, emphasizing his point as it scratched against the ground, throwing sparks towards the humans.  A spear was thrust at him.

Adran swung his blade causing the spear to be knocked aside.  Zin and Carric each leaped forward, Carric firing an arrow in midair.  The archer instantly brought his hand back to a quiver and had put another arrow on his bow before he even hit the ground.  Zin cast his knife at one of the armored knights.

Carric’s arrow met with armor, and punched through it.  One of the men cried out in pain as the deadly arrowhead pierced their shoulder.  He fell back, gasping in anguish, then landed on the ground.  The arrow snapped, driving its head deeper into him and sending the venom coursing through his veins even faster.  Moments later he lay dead, staring up with lifeless eyes.

Zin’s knife hit the next man in the neck, and he let out a small cry before falling.  The others nervously eyed the ground, their two dead comrades, and the three elves who, obviously, were not to be meddled with.

Carric stared straight at the four men who remained alive.  “Leave,” he said, with his bow still ready to fire, “now.  And we’ll let you go without killing you.”

The four men dropped their weapons, all of them with the same expression on their faces.  Terror.  Zin, Carric, and Adran had grown all to used to seeing that in people.  Terror.  The terror of men running from the trio and abandoning their assignments of killing them, the terror of their own kin as those same men thrust spears through their necks and burned their beloved woods.

Zin walked forward, knives pointed straight forward.  “Carric,” he said, “You do realize that if we let them go, they’ll just come back and try to kill us again?”  Carric scoffed, and the men began to whine quietly as they backed up towards the door.  “Carric… shoot them… Now!”  in that instant, as he shouted the last word, Zin sprung forward, letting his knives fly from his hands and hit two of the men in the necks.  They stumbled back, trying to breathe, but only started to cough up blood.

The remaining two decided that they had no chance of escaping, and if they were going to die, they were going to die fighting.  They screamed in rage and terror, charging forward with spears outstretched.  Adran ran forward quickly, swinging his sword and knocking aside a spear as it dove for Zin’s chest.  The swordsman thrust his own blade forward, opening up his defenses but giving his enemy a nasty wound to the shoulder.

Using the brief advantage, that human let his spear hit Adran in the shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain.

Carric fired one of his arrows through the man’s neck, then followed up by firing another which killed the last of the men.

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Caladon and Thalm… the two human kingdoms.  They were right next to each other geographically, always feuding over territory.  And they were crumbling.  King Than of Thalm stood hunched over in his throne room.

One of his closest servants walked through the door, carrying a platter of the finest food in the kingdom.  “Your dinner, Majesty,” he said with a slight smile and a bow, placing the golden plate down in front of the king.  Than just absently stared at it for a few moments.

“Take it, I’m not hungry.  Give it to the people.  They need it.”

“My liege?”

“Just do it!”

“Yes, my liege.”

The servant gave another bow, picked up the platter, and walked out of the room.  Now that he was alone again, Than sat with his head bowed on his throne.  What shall I do about this? He asked himself that question over and over again.  My kingdom is crumbling, and there’s no way for me to stop it.  

“Perhaps you can profit from it,” said a voice behind the king.  The voice was hollow, as if the one who had spoken was no longer among the living.

“Who said that?” asked the king, fingering his knife nervously.  “Who dares enter my throne room and invade my thoughts.”

“It is only I,” said the voice, “The one who gave you your rule.”

“None gave me my power over this kingdom, other than myself.”

“Do not be so sure of that,” the voice said almost menacingly.  “There are so many things you don’t know about the way the world works, and I’d hate to tell you them all, for it would drive you mad.”

The king turned around and drew out his knife, swinging it towards the source of the voice.  It was like trying to fight empty air.  It was trying to fight empty air.  The voice laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh.  “You cannot harm what is not there,” it said.  “Let me tell you something... something you’ll find important if you are to continue ruling over this kingdom.

“The way a king is chosen is not by conquering or by bloodline, truly it is I who chooses those that will rule.  And, if you go against my will, you will lose your kingdom.  It is as simple as that.

“Now,” the voice continued, “You will tell me everything that is happening, everything that you’re planning... I can’t stay to watch over you fully forever.  So just write it down, and I will know.”

“You will know,” the king said with a voice just as hollow.

Then it was gone, and the king looked around.  Have I said something? 

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