Weekly Sample: Fantasy
(14 min read) by Reeve Warner
You should read this if:
You’re a fan of Way of Kings
You want action that’ll have you on the edge of your seat
You want an unpredictable story
Fantasy Fight | Twists | Mystery | Sprinkle of romance
Kalec’s palace is riddled with strange activity; servants illegally buying books, missing guards, and more beneath the surface. Filled with depth, twists and an epic fight scene, this prologue knows how to start with a bang!
Prologue:
The Reader's Sample | Descendants: Prologue
After passing through a black marble corridor lit only by sparse torchlight, Zane found, for the second time, the guards were missing from their posts. Cold fingers of paranoia touched his spine, but he forced himself to shrug them off.
Everyone gets paranoid when they sneak about. The guards are just sloppy. Perhaps he should’ve looked for them. Nonetheless, his anticipation won out. He cut through the kitchen to squeak open the exit door. Kalec’s many fires left the smell of burning wood in the breeze. From the hill the palace stood on, Zane could see the expansive lands King Zurich had conquered long ago. The city of smoke didn’t hold back tonight. Countless dark pillars rose into the air. Some glowed with reds or blues of fire. A beautiful sight that let him see her outline. The bookseller was just ahead, waiting in the shadows against the gates. He crossed the open stone space with weak legs.
“All 6 are here,” Sheir whispered, to slight chills on his spine.
“Thank you,” Zane smiled. He could imagine her smile, though never seeing her outside the shadow of night. She handed the books over one by one through the bars of the gate.
“All war strategies,” she noted with a hint of something. “Seems like the only thing the princes think about.”
“Who says I’m not reading them?”
“But you’re a servant!” She sounded aghast. It was more than a servant’s monthly wage to deliver them here.
“The Zurichs pay rather nicely.” She handed over the last book.
“I think we’d do better with royals who know what peace means,” she said.
“Don’t say stuff like that! The two eldest would have you executed.”
“Why only the eldest two? Do I need to be more creative for the youngest?”
“My master’s more merciful, though I don’t have a clue what he’d do and I don’t wanna find out.”
“Judging by how heavy these books are, I’d say he’s still got some wars to wage.”
“Well, he’s still a Zurich,” Zane shrugged.
“And a family shouldn’t define a person. It’s why first names exist.” The crackling of distant fires filled the awkward silence for a moment. “The tokens,” she prompted.
“Oh, right.” Their hands found each other, and he dropped the bag into her palm.
“Thank you.” Was she smiling? It was hard to tell in such poor lighting. “Speaking of first names…”
“You’re gonna give me your real one?” Zane asked.
“And make things easy on you? It doesn’t sound fun.”
“Asvidal already has thousands of people. Searching for you is gonna be a little hard.”
“And do you wanna give me any hints?”
He laughed. “As a wise woman once said, making it easy on you doesn’t sound fun, Sheir.”
“Fine, Finn. You’re fake name’s stupid anyway.”
“Yours sounds like a drunken cheer.”
“Ooh, you’re definitely not getting any hints now,” she teased. “It’s gonna be a cake walk to find you first.”
“We’ll see.”
He thought he could make out her waving as she left. “Bye now. And see you in Asvidal!”
See you in Asvidal. That really gave him chills. Excited chills. Walking back into the palace, Zane couldn’t stop his mind. He knew she had straight red hair from a loose strand he found between books, and that she was 14, only a year older than he. She would be a second year, and he a first. He passed back through the kitchen, down the same corridor and into the one of black marble. The torches were dimmer now.
Would Sheir find me attractive? he wondered. What if we never find each other? The game they made of it practically filled his every thought.
“Scream, and I will kill you,” an unnatural voice said beside him. He turned, frozen and confused. A figure of darkness walked out. His first thought was a silhouette, a monster of the anti force, but those didn’t speak. They were hidden in shadow, being between the torches. A figure only a little taller than him. Thin hood covering their head, armour plates tight around their upper half, and a robe-like bottom. It was human. Then how did they get in? Where were the guards? He didn’t say a word. “What is your role in the palace?” The voice was deep, but as if spoken through a voice changer.
“I-I’m a servant,” he trembled.
“A servant in Kalec with… books? I know your culture. All fire kingdoms think books are beneath them, no? Useless words from the Kingdom of Wisdom.”
“The youngest prince- he requests I give him books sometimes.”
“The youngest prince? No. Lead me to the Eldest brother’s quarters. Troy Zurich.”
Despite his training, he showed every bit of fear he felt. He let the books fall from his hands and collapsed to resemble a beggar. “Please!” he said in a hush. “I-I’m no fighter. I’m not old enough to be trained in Asvidal yet. Please-”
“Whining lowers your chances,” the voice sighed. “12 or 13 then? No abilities?”
“N-no.”
They breathed out, nodding slightly. “Just lead me there and give me no reason.”
“B-but I can’t. I was told to never-”
“Don’t worry about that,” they said, almost caringly. “You just lead me there, nothing else. Ok?”
He nodded, sniffled and walked awkwardly down the corridor.
The hooded figure walked behind him, seemingly unarmed. Unarmed meant nothing in the world of descendants though. He led them ahead, intending to take small detours to find the guard’s barracks, only 30 feet from the older prince’s room. He needed to figure out who he was up against. But the only kingdom that might target a royal prince of Fire would be Wisdom or Water. Water wasn’t an active threat, which left one possibility.
“Prince T-Troy’s room is just ahead.” Coming to a T-section, Zane took the left turn, away from Troy’s room. Zane could take a descendant of the Queen of Wisdom. Wisdom as an element had little to no combat abilities, which is why they relied on their technology. Only this person had no visible weapons. They are in the palace. They are not weak, the logical part of him thought. But what would the king say if he beat an assassin? They were almost to the guard barracks now. The door was just ahead, beneath a single torch.
“Right here,” he whispered.
The hooded figure moved past him, creeping to the door. Edging closer. Zane channelled his ryuo into his hand, forming a spear made of solid fire and hurled it at top speed. It struck the center of their back. The fire turned black, decaying to nothing. They stumbled against the door and nothing more. Zane didn’t have time to be stunned.
“Guards!” he yelled. “The princes are in danger! Guards!” A sword formed in their right hand, like soot rising from a dying fire. The long rectangular blade spun around, forcing Zane to duck. Wind howled above him, panic rising. The assassin took a lunging step forward. Jumping back, Zane formed a slate of fire beneath his foot and kicked it forward. It would’ve toppled them, like stepping onto a moving treadmill, but their sword cut through it with a spin of the wrist and the fire turned to decaying soot. It was like a poison that rotted anything it touched. Zane threw himself against the wall as the black sword slammed down. A fire sword of his own formed and he lashed out. Their sword was already there, as if they predicted the strike. That forced him to drop the blackening sword, and dive as their blade arched overhead, then back down.
“Prince Zane?” the assassin asked calmly as they pressed on hard. “I can’t believe a Zurich almost outsmarted me.”
He could only stumble backward down the corridor as the long blade slashed and tore through the air. It had to weigh a ton, but they carried its momentum into each swing like a dancer of death. Time your strike, he told himself. The giant blade was falling. Catching them off guard, he stepped in. A fire spear extended and struck dead center of the chest plate. It turned to ash in an instant. Only this time he let go too late. The blackness seared his hands, crawling as he fell to a knee. He formed a shield in front of himself as a kick came for him, but he was still sent tumbling back. It wasn’t that he caught them off guard, but the way they used those impenetrable armour plates was closer to a shield. Every opponent can be outsmarted. But he couldn’t think straight.
He screamed so loud the city of Kalec could’ve heard it. That burning was like corrosive acid was boiling in his forearms. The assassin was charging. Through the fog of pain, Zane recognised the black marble pattern the poison was forming. And withdrew all his ryuo from his arms. As he suspected, the substance began to fade without his energy to consume, until his hands were back to normal, but still burning. He formed two swords. One deflected their falling blade, the other cut upward. Despite aiming for the space at their hip, the assassin twisted to block with the chest plate. Zane was forced to let go of both blades as they curled to black ash. It was then he realised how quickly he would meet his end. All they had to do was drag their sword toward them, cutting Zane where he lay. A door slammed open. A pillar of fire rose from the floor beneath the intruder, turning partly black, but still throwing them into the air. Another pillar of fire shot diagonally upward, over Zane, and pushed them back. He scrambled upward to stand beside his brother.
“Where are the guards?” Troy grumbled.
“They’re not here,” Zane huffed. “Not one. They couldn’t be-”
“We have close to a dozen guards,” Troy said. “Even the strongest of descendants isn’t taking on more than 2.” The intruder stood back, taking a moment to study Troy. Realising who he was. And Heathe, the middle brother, who soon appeared from the bottom of the T section. The assassin pointed at Troy. “Fetch.” At first, Zane was confused. Next, he turned to see a figure rising from his brother’s shadow. A silhouette. A mindless beast of chaos that followed no descendant, until this moment. It wrapped all 4 arms around Troy and dragged him down into his shadow. Zane tried to grab him, but the thing was too fast. Troy rose from the shadow casted in front of the assassin. He quickly burned the silhouette with an upward pillar of fire at his feet. The beast let go, snatching his leg and pulling him off his feet, on his back. The assassin’s long blade circled overhead before slamming down. Troy threw himself backward with a diagonal pillar, dodging the blow. But he still screamed in pain. Zane and Heathe rushed forward, shooting arrows of fire, and pushing with giant fiery hands to keep the two at bay. The blood that poured through Troy’s shirt was turning black as it fell. Zane’s eyes widened, unbelieving. Heathe’s giant hands of fire forced the two back, but they made little attempt forward. Another man walked seemingly through the wall beside the assassin, coming from the shadow. Another silhouette was behind him. His long curving sword was slick with blood, and so was he. He looked like he came from a plane wreck.
“The king’s dead,” the new man said, limping to the other assassin. A middle eastern accent and outfit. “Bastard knew how to fight.” Half his clothes were singed.
“Father,” Heathe muttered in shock, twisting with anger.
“Your own blood falls?” the original assassin questioned. “How shameful.”
He nodded toward the three brothers. “And your job?”
They looked at Zane holding his brother. The blood leaking from his side. “My job is done too.”
“The guards that weren’t shadow travelled away should be following soon. We don’t wanna face them.”
The original nodded. Then they grabbed each other on the shoulder, the silhouette’s circling them, and they all sunk into shadow. Heathe rushed forward, trying to grab them only a moment too late. Zane knelt with his older brother, corrupted black blood soaking his lower half. Troy was breathing, but for how long? Zane’s own breathing was loud, wheezing, panicked.
He pulled off Troy’s shirt. The cut wasn’t a fatal one usually. Deep into the side without hitting internal organs. But the darkness infected it. Small screams escaped Troy’s mouth, his chest rising rapidly.
“Zurich’s never fall,” Troy mumbled. “Zurich’s never fall. Father.. Father…I’ve failed you, father…” The black substance looked as if it was spreading. It was worse than Zane’s arms had been.
“Go find the healers,” Heathe commanded. He tried to burn away at the black with careful flames. Every time his flames got too close, they turned black as well. Zane was shaking. Guilt, and shame, and fear.
“Hurry up!” Heathe yelled, half crying. “Get the damn healers!”
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