The Story of Kedar & Leonie

Chapter One
(rough draft written years ago)

Leonie glanced up at the clouds over head and wondered vaguely if it were going to rain again. She dearly hoped not. It would be awkward enough trying to get all the supplies back to the caravan, but she hadn’t thought to bring an oiled canvass to protect the dry goods.

She sighed and pushed the stray curls of red hair out of her eyes. She didn’t understand how so much hair gets loose from a braid she just pulled back that morning, yet it seemed to happen everyday. Honestly, she thought sharply to herself, now is not the time to be worried about such absurd things. You’d think by now I’d know better. It’s the clothes. It’s just got to be the foolish skirt! She brushed her hand across the soft leather skirt. It was ankle length and too tight around her legs for her to walk normally. It felt odd after so long.

“Aye, don’t worry cub, it won’t be long till we’re back with the rest and away from all the people. Then you can wear whatever ya want.”

Leonie smiled down at one of her dearest friends. Since he was a dwarf, he only stood as tall as her chest. His blue-violet eyes were a familiar and comforting sight among so many strangers. “Thanks Snowden, I know. I guess I never like cities much.”

The dwarf smiled back, but most of it was distorted by his thick gray and white beard. It was sternly trimmed above his upper lip, but the rest of his beard was long enough that he kept it braided in two thick braids that hung to his waist. It was the traditional style of dwarves and regardless of Snowden living with humans, he was strict in the traditions of his people. On the other hand, there were things that he did that had no connection to customs, such as the crossbow slung on his back and a staff in his hand, which would have no place in the pacifist society of the Dwarves.
He had been with the Rhea caravan and family since before Leonie had been born. He was her father’s most trusted servant and friend. To her, he was a protector and sometimes her voice of reason when her father wasn’t around. “Aye, an’ the market’s always the worse.” He grumbled.

“Well, we’d better get this done, Father’s countin’ on us. Although I don’t see how he expects all the stuff he wants to fit on just the one pony.” She muttered as she glanced around at the chaotic scene about her.

The market place was just an open city block which was rarely used for anything except for one day in ten, when dozens of merchants and farmers will set up little wooden stands on the hard packed dirt. They would use anything they could to make the little temporary shops, everything from tables that someone dragged from their houses, to wooden barrels. Most of them would use tall wood planks to create a frame for canvas awnings to keep any possible rain off of their wares. There was little color in the scene outside of the glint of gold or silver merchandise or the occasional nobility servants dressed in dark blues, maroons, or some other muted color. It all seemed fairly drab to Leonie. It had rained that morning, and through the rough traffic of the day, the ground had been churned into thick mud. And although her feet were protected by thick leather boots, most of the locals only wore wooden sandals strapped to their feet by bands of cloth or leather. Everyone walked in the small aisles for few could afford horses or mules, but there were a couple, like Leonie and Snowden, who tamely led pack animals behind them to carry their purchases.

The noise was almost deafening sometimes with all the shopkeepers shouting to draw as much attention as they can to their own offerings. That was just one more of the many reasons why Leonie hated buying supplies in Talden. The air wasn’t exactly hot, but there was no breeze and the humidity was stifling. It was amazing, she and Snowden had just reached the marketplace and she was ready to leave again! It would take at least two hours before she would be able to find all that the caravan needed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

She felt an instinct to roll up her sleeves in the warm weather, but she knew that it wouldn’t go over very well in the extremely close minded society, so she left the long gray blue sleeves as they were.

“Well, it looks like we’re in for a parade.” She heard Snowden groan.

“What?” Leonie asked as she turned around, but she didn’t need his explanation. Just entering the market was a large procession of men on horseback. They rose above the crowd like colorful ducks on a pond. More like exotic birds. It was a group of about twenty men, most of who were heavily armed with all manner of weapons. They were dressed in gleaming colors as bright as a flower garden. The soldiers flanking the outside edge were armored with gold and silver which had been polished to a high gleam. If the sun were out, it surely would have blinded some of the innocent bystanders. The ones in the middle were decked out in shimmering silk. Leonie had seen and even touched real silk before, when her father decided to buy some for trade once, but it was rare and very expensive. Even in all her travels with the caravan and all the nobles she’d seen she had never witnessed so much in one place. They were of bright and rich colors, like royal purple, bright red, and deep blue.

In the middle of the band came one white stead which stood out grandly among all the darker horses. It was a beautiful beast and Leonie could tell instantly that it was an animal of prime quality. Of course, she had to admit that the horse didn’t stand out as much as his rider did. There was no doubt that the man wrapped in crimson and gold silk was their precious noble. His clothing was even more exotic looking than the rest, if that were possible. He even wore a bundle of red silk around the top of his head. His skin was fairer than any that she had ever seen before and he had hair that was a brighter gold than the silk! She couldn’t see his face clearly, for they were quite a distance away, but she could imagine that he’d have that arrogant look that nearly all nobles bore, especially of such a class of grandeur as this one.
Leonie watched as the group struggled to push through the crowds. There was some shouted commands from the guards and some sharp mutters from the commoners. They weren’t making much progress. She could only assume that dressed like that, they were headed directly for the Council’s Hall. Usually, the direct approach through the large open square would be the best route, for the fortress like structure was just a short walk from the other side, but on Market day, it was an absurd attempt. To make it all the way through all the crowds and stalls would take them more time than it would have taken them to hike all the way around the city, possibly twice. That wasn’t considering the effort that it would take to convince the people to move aside. The Talden people were not used to being pushed about, even by their own nobles.

Suddenly a jagged cry rose above the noise.

“Oh no. If they’ve hurt one of the commoners, . . .” Leonie muttered as she headed toward the sound.

“Leonie! Watch OUT!” Snowden shouted suddenly.

She barely realized that from out of the crowd, a mule had panicked and was racing right toward her before it was practically upon her. She dodged to the left just in time but stumbled into a stand. She looked back to look again at the runaway animal. She heard again the wail and finally noticed who it was. It was a young man who must have been riding the mule but had gotten unseated and now dangled from the twisted stirrups. The panicked mount was dragging him along the muddy ground at a hard pace. He was dressed like the other guards.

She heard yelling and turned back to the group, where the pair had come from and she turned to see three men on horses chasing him down. There was a terrible anger on two of the men’s faces and Leonie wondered if the fallen man on the mule might be a captive who had attempted an escape which had backfired. The look on the guard’s faces didn’t seem to be concern for a comrade, but rather a grim determination to catch him. They were yelling at him in strange words that she couldn’t begin to understand, but the confused crowd was still stunned from the solo stampede and weren’t paying attention to the men trying to get past them.
Leonie hardly cared who the man was, but someone had to help him from being dragged to death. She pushed away from the stand and ran through the crowd after the mule. Since it was just her on foot, she could easily dodge through the people. She heard Snowden calling after her, but he had the pony and so couldn’t follow easily.

As she ran, she watched in horror as the mule found itself headed right for a stand and swerved sharply to the left. The man, who was hanging from the right side was swung into the stand. Boards snapped and either his foot finally escaped the stirrup, or the leather broke, because the man was tossed through the stand. The canvas overhead fluttered down to cover the whole thing. The mule, on the other hand, continued it’s flight through the market.

Leonie sprinted to the wreckage. By the time she got there, the shopkeeper had dragged the man from beneath the canvas and was shouting at him angrily. The ;young man was about Leonie’s height and almost as slender. He had shoulder length light brown hair that must have been pulled back in a loose ponytail, but most of it had come free of the tie. As much as she could see, his skin was much paler than the local people, but most of it that silk didn’t cover, the mud did. He was cringing away from the shopkeeper and wind-milling his arms wildly as if to escape, but he wasn’t succeeding.

“Excuse me,” Leonie prompted gently.

“Whatta want miz?” the shopkeeper growled.

“Well I don’t think that you need yell at the poor man so. He obviously is from a different land and I doubt that he can even understand you. What good is it to yell at him?”

“LOOK at what he DID!” the man shouted. “He’s ruined all my fruit! Who’s gonna pay for all this? Cause someone has to pay for this mess!”

Leonie was close enough to see the young man’s mud splashed face looking at her with a desperate plea in his gray-blue eyes. The poor guy was scared half to death of this man and she couldn’t blame him; the shopkeeper was no small brute. She wanted to help him, but she wasn’t quite sure how.

Abruptly, there was a shout behind Leonie in a butchered accent. “Outta way woman!”

She turned to find herself faced with the three guards. They were glaring at her, especially the foremost one. She would bet anything that he had been the one who had shouted at her. He stood nearly a head taller than her and was over twice the size of the other young man. He was surely only a couple years older than herself. He stared down at her with arrogant, cold blue eyes.

“Fine,” she muttered under her breath. “Although from the sound of it, you don’t have enough of a grip on the language to work things out with the shopkeeper.”

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Leonie suddenly smiled brightly and stepped aside. “I hope he skins you.” She said happily.

Just as she had guessed, the man hadn’t a clue what she had really said, but under the impression that she wouldn’t interfere, he seemed pretty content with himself. He strutted past her and headed for the proprietor. She watched with grim humor as the two beasts haggled between the two of them. The shopkeeper seemed to assume that either they were trying to make fun of him by sending a crazy inarticulate man to irritate him, or they were pretending stupidity to get out of paying him. The foreigner, on the other hand couldn’t seem to catch on to what the man was yelling and couldn’t see why the shopkeeper wasn’t understanding his apologies, so he just raised his voice more.

It continued for a moment and Leonie wondered if she could just buy some food and stay to watch, but she wasn’t sure if some one would be insulted and start yelling at her again. As interesting as it was, she wasn’t really in the mood to get into an argument right then and she didn’t really have the time.

By now, another guard had entered the verbal debate, but he was even worse at the language than the first. Although he was taking a better approach of trying to calm the first down for he was beginning to lose his patience with the stubborn shopkeeper.

“Ah, how anger begets anger.” Leonie muttered as she watched.

After another minute, the first guard gave up on the man and instead grabbed a hold of the young man. He tried to pull the muddy guy free, but the shopkeeper jerked him back. Then the second guard turned on the shopkeeper and yelled something at him. It was probably best that it was in the strange language, because from the tone, Leonie doubted that it was a light insult.

Finally, the third guard, who was still standing apart from the group yelled something else in their language. Apparently he was yelling at the first guard because he turned around and yelled something angrily back.

“Leonie, what’s going on?” Snowden asked gruffly as he pulled the stubborn pony to stand beside her.

“Well, . . .” she commented, “I think that we could call this an extreme conflict of the language barrier.”

“Why don’t they just stuff some gold down the old goat’s throat and settle it? They’ve got enough money to buy two dozen stands and they’ve got to see that gold is all the goat wants! Gold always cures fighting faster than . . . well, faster than anything I know of.”

She glanced down at him and laughed. “I guess they don’t teach diplomatic skills in the country that they come from, but then he’s a man, and a guard besides. Maybe they just didn’t think it was worth the effort. What can you expect of a nobleman’s guard?” She shrugged. “Actually, I’m surprised this hasn’t already reached a fist fight yet. I just feel sorry for the guy in the middle.”

There was a wail, probably from that guy in the middle and Leonie turned quickly to see the first guard step back and pull back a fist.

“I guess I spoke too soon.”

Suddenly, a sharp command rose above the fight. All of the guards froze. Leonie noticed briefly that the first guard had heard the voice and gone slightly paler than he really was. His fist unclenched and he turned toward the source of the command.
Leonie followed his gaze to see the noble, sitting atop his white stead. His face was set solidly, but without anger. Once he had gained the attention of all his men, he slowly got down from his horse.

Leonie grinned, duly impressed, but said nothing as she watched him walk toward the stand.

“Well,” muttered Snowden. “Lord high and mighty has come down from heaven to rectify the mess. Surly he’ll know enough to bring money.”

The noble stopped in mid-step and glanced over at Leonie and Snowden. She felt his eyes brush over her and settle on the dwarf. They looked blue from this distance, but she couldn’t be sure. His face was finely crafted, as if designed by an artist’s brush. Gold hair flared from his face, then swept to his shoulders. His features were almost of a delicate nature, and might better be described as classically beautiful than handsome, . . . but then again, she wasn’t really standing that close and it might just be a trick of the eyes. The eyes held on Snowden for a moment, but he said nothing. Finally the noble continued his way to address the shopkeeper.

“I apologize for the damage done to your property by my servant.” The noble stated politely and with clear fluency. “I also beg an excuse for my friend, for he still struggles with your language. Regrettably, it can be highly frustrating for him. We will gladly pay you enough gold to cover all the damage, trouble and inconveniences that we have caused you.”

The shopkeeper stared, dumbfounded at the noble, yet apparently couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. The mud covered young man took advantage of this and jumped away from him to stumble over to the noble. He started muttering something in his language, which sounded greatly like a very sincere apology. He started to kneel down, but the noble gave him a quick order that sent him running for the main group.

“See cub, I told you that money would solve everything. Although I must admit that the guy knowing the language was definitely an advantage. There’s your diplomacy for ya.”

“Shh,” hissed Leonie. “Didn’t you learn anything from him glaring at you? It means that he heard what you said about him, and understood it. Are you checking on his hearing range?”

The dwarf merely shrugged absently and sighed, “whelp, I guess the show’s over. Back to shopping I suppose, huh?”

“Yep, too bad though, Talden almost became somewhat exciting for once. I am glad that I didn’t stay back at the Caravan this time. Can you imagine missing all that? I do want to see if the noble chews out that first guy though. He’s deserve it. It’s just too bad that we can’t understand their language.”

She had again guessed right, for the next thing that the noble did was call the first guard over to him and start talking to him sharply. Unfortunately, nothing really happened because the sharpness fell away and it seemed to end in good humor between friends. Leonie couldn’t be sure whether she was glad or disappointed that they knew enough not to laugh with the shopkeeper still standing there. They got close, but apparently the noble ended it with restraint and sent the man to join the rest.

“Come on, Snowden. Let’s go.”

“Ah, you mean you don’t want to see them try to haggle over a price?”

“By the look of it, I doubt the noble will bargain. He’ll probably just hand over a ridiculous amount to end it as quickly as possible. I get the feeling that the guy can afford it.”

Leonie and Snowden simply walked away and she resisted the urge to look back. In less than five minutes, they had both forgotten the entire episode, almost.



Kedar Najera exhaled slowly as he settled himself into his saddle. He allowed his eyes to close and took another deep breath. What have I gotten myself into? He wondered silently. He did not really want to think about it. He did not want to think about what he would face when they reached the Hall. He would have enjoyed the delay, if it did not only invite more danger. Surely there was a better way to the Hall than directly through the large market square filled with so many stands and people. Faced with so many of them, he only felt more isolated. For the first time in his life, he was the stranger, the outcast. It did not help him feel better and the thought of spending the rest of his life among these strangers only made it worse. It hardly mattered that he had his two closest friends in the world there with him, he still felt like he was alone.

“Prince Kedar, . . . I . . .”

Kedar opened his eyes slowly and looked at the young man riding along side him. He smiled faintly. “I know, Azur. You do not have to apologize again. I should have seen it coming.”

Azur grimaced. “With Bartram, no one ever sees it coming. I still don’t see why we ever brought him with us anyhow! He only endangers the mission.”

Kedar sighed. “Bartram tries.”

“Yeah, and the harder he tries, the bigger his blunders!”

“Thank you for going after him.”

“I could have gotten it all worked out if that Taldian hadn’t been so stubborn! He was completely unreasonable. They all are. I can’t see how your father sees it worth the effort of trying to bring them around to peaceful terms. They are uncivilized!”

“That is why Prince Kedar’s presence in their court is so needful.”

“Yes, of course, I never meant otherwise!”

Kedar turned to look at his old mentor. “Thank you, Faruq.”

Faruq was the older of his two best friends, by far. His hair was nearly all white and the deep wrinkles on his face were like cracks eroded into stone. Kedar knew that his mentor was not half as hard as he appeared to be. He could see the kindness that others never realized could exist in the strict man. He could even recall a few times when he had actually managed to make Faruq almost laugh. He could tell by the light that would come into his gray eyes and the smile that would soften his face. In all the years that Kedar had know him, he’d only seen him smile on a handful of occasions. Yes, it was rare, but it made those moments mean so much more.

Kedar’s fingers tightened around his reins as the group neared the stark gray walls surrounding the Council’s Hall. Ten armed guards patrolled the narrow gateway, but from the assortment of armor and weapon styles, they several looked like a hired band of mercenaries. The men glared at Kedar’s formal escort, even reaching for weapons, although none were drawn. When one of the Taldian soldiers demanded what business the group had with the council, the young prince led his horse forward to speak for himself since none of his countrymen besides Frauq knew the language.

“I am Kedar Najera, son of King Almir of Qualtame.”

“And what do you want here?” the soldier demanded.
Kedar took a short breath and lifted his head, unsure of the amount of information that should be given to a simple guard. “I have business with Councilor Slarthos – by arranged invitation.”

The guard studied him with narrowed eyes. “We shall see.” He turned to another soldier and sent him scurrying to the Hall. Turning back to Kedar, he said, “You can wait here for the Councilor’s reply, but keep your men out of the way. Any trouble and the lot of you can wait in cells.”

Stiffening, Kedar frowned. He sighed and turned his horse back into the group.

“So, what’d the guy say?” asked Azur as he steadied his mount.

Kedar avoided his friend’s eyes. “He said to wait for confirmation and try to stay out of their way.”

“He said what?” demanded Azur. “Stay out of their way? Who does the cur think he’s talking to? What idiot tells a prince such a thing? And they consider themselves civilized?”

“We cannot expect them to understand the respect due to royalty,” Frauq chided. “After all, they are not blessed with such here. They are ruled by a council of commoners who may not expect any particular respect due to them.”

“A bunch of heathens,” Azur grumbled, rolling his eyes, then he called out to the men, “You heard the Prince, pull back from the gate and give the rabble space.”

“Azur,” Kedar said quietly, “I don’t want any trouble. We’re here to forge an alliance of peace, not look for offense. Graceful or not, they were the first to extend their hand in friendship.”

The warrior frowned. “Pardon my own rudeness, but I do not perceive a invitation for a royal Prince to marry some commoner’s daughter a noble gesture. I don’t have to look for offense.” He shook his head. “His Grace, the King seems panicked by his age –”

“Do not speak so of your King,” Kedar cut in. “Regardless of my past with you, you are to maintain your respect to my family.”

Azur groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “You know I meant no disrespect. I just don’t like this – any of it. You should have picked someone else to head this mission – someone who agreed with it.”

“I chose you because I knew I could trust you to do it right, regardless of your personal opinions.”

Kedar’s soft compliment failed to ease Azur’s frown as the warrior replied, “Let’s just hope you don’t regret it.” Then he turned his horse aside and directed his men to dismount and gather near the wall.

“Fear not,” Frauq reassured Kedar. “All will go well. Your father is wise to finally concede to an alliance. Our land has sought isolation for far too long and the dwarves grow too numerous on our borders.”

Kedar breathed in deeply and let it out slowly as he tried to attend to his mentor’s political commentary, but the trip had been too long and tense.

They waited there, in the hot humidity of the day, as the sun reached it’s peak and slid toward the horizon. Weary from over a week of heavy travel through strange lands, the warriors dressed in the golden breastplates and deep mauve silk of the royal guard sat in the dirt of a dusty roadway, while curious citizens gathered at a distance to stare at them. As shadows lengthened, Azur’s muttered cursing grew louder. Although the soldiers carried food rations in there personal belongings, dried meat and hard bread did little to ease the disappointed frowns and edgy restlessness.

As the red-gold sun touched the rooftops of the city, a Taldian guard approached the group and issued the blunt command of, “Follow me,” then turned and headed directly back through the gate.

Kedar obeyed and his escort hastened to gather the mounts and few belongings that had been pulled out. Passing through the gate, he noticed the glares and menacing looks from the guards. It seemed that if the two countries held nothing else in common, they both had citizens ill impressed with current political decisions. Kedar sighed.

The Council’s Hall was actually more of a fortress than a meeting center, a building left over from over two centuries ago when monarchs ruled the area. With a violent uprising and revolt, the royal family had been betrayed from within and executed. The stronghold passed into control of the rebels and became the center of the new government. Tall, blockish towers stood out starkly against the darkening sky. The few scattered palm trees dotting the courtyard and near the outer walls did little to soften the cold gray stone.

As they walked by an old crumbling cistern, Kedar eyed the pock-marked stone where mosaic tiles had been stripped away. A small trickle of water escaped a crack low in the hollow column and pooled at the base. A few weeds and a scrubby bush grew around the puddle, an oasis in the hard-packed dry dirt.

A short, plump man stood in the tall doorway of the building. His dark mauve cotton vest stood out against a grayish shirt. The person kept wringing his hands nervously as he watched the group approach, dark eyes scanning the group. Short beard growth darkened his jaw while longer bangs had been brushed forward to cover a receding hairline.

As the group stopped before the man, he waved and called to the guard, “Take the men through the back for food and wine. Their horses can be tied up there.”

The guard waved for the escort to follow him, but no one moved.

Azur glanced at Kedar, who said, “Go with him. They have food and refreshment prepared for you.”

The warrior ordered his men to follow the guard, but handed the reins of his horse to his second. “I’ll remain by your side, if it pleases you, my Prince.”

“Azur, the journey has been long, you deserve –”

“I’ll remain, regardless,” the warrior replied with a frown. “This isn’t a place for gracious protocol.”

Kedar gave him a smile, then one of Azur’s men gathered up Kedar and Frauq’s reins and led the horses around the building with the others.

The plump man studied the three left for a long moment, then pointed at the Prince.

“You’re Kedare, right?”

The prince stiffened at the stranger’s misuse of his common name. After a deep breath, he said, “Yes, I am Prince Kedar Najera, son of King –”

“Yes, yes,” the man muttered as he nodded. “Follow me.” He turned and headed down a dim corridor.

Azur and Frauq glanced at each other and then at their Prince, but Kedar ignored them as he lifted his chin and followed the man.

They followed the stranger through a series of torch-lit hallways. Occasionally, the man peered back at them, yet said nothing more. As they passed near a noisy kitchen, the man called to a servant. “Manuel, please inform Balise that Kedar and two men are here to see him.”

Frauq turned to Kedar and in their native language asked, “Did the envoy mention a man by such name?”

Kedar shook his head. “Not that I remember, but he could be the leader of the council. All I really know is that Councilor Slarthos is the father of,” he hesitated, “of the woman.”

After the servant nodded and ran off, the men continued down the hallway. They walked for another few minutes in silence.

Frauq peered at the man’s back, then glanced at Kedar. He frowned and asked loudly, “Will Councilor Slarthos himself be joining us in our tour of the grounds.”

The man stumbled and turned to eye them. “I’m Slarthos.”

Kedar blinked and swallowed as he stared at the man. This man is the father of his bride? Between the dark, brown hair and brown eyes, Kedar fought hard to hide his disappointment. And if the father stood only as the prince’s shoulders, how short is the daughter? He pushed the thoughts away. They didn't matter.

The councilor frowned and looked around. "So, shall we continue the tour?" He turned and pointed to a door. "This here is a library. There's a few books in there, but most of them were burned." He shrugged. "Mostly it's used for private meetings." He turned again and pointed farther down the hallway. "And down this way, we have a," Slarthos paused, blushing. "We have a water chamber."

"This man," Frauq said quietly in their native language, "seems odd, does he not?"
Azur nodded. "He's either crazy or he's planning something."

"Being that he is the father of your intended, Master Kedar, I'm not sure which is preferred."

Kedar winced as Azur starred at the mentor. "This guy's Slarthos?" the warrior demanded. He groaned and shook his head. "I knew this was a bad idea. I say we leave now."

"I admit that I have reason to believe that we are being led in circles," Frauq said.

"That's it, we're leaving." Azur reached for his sword.

Kedar reached to stall him. "But why would he--"

The prince saw movement behind them as something dark slammed down on Azur's head. The warrior stumbled forward, jerking his weapon free as he spun. Kedar reached for his own sword, turning.

A dark figure rushed Kedar, ramming their shoulder into his gut. Grunting with the initial pain, he twisted, trying to shove his attacker away. The man slid past and Kedar managed to free his sword. Yelling echoed through the shadowed corridor and the prince glimpsed two more figures attacking Azur, one gripping a knife. Frauq lay on the floor, unconscious, but still breathing. Noticing movement in the corner of his vision, Kedar spun to face his original attacker.

The man eyed the sword and then pulled a short-sword from his own sheath.

"Who are you and what do you want?" Kedar demanded.

The man smiled, but said nothing. He slid left, then charged again, the shorter blade glimmering in the torchlight. Kedar parried and pushed to the right, determined not to be caught against the wall of the narrow hallway. The attacker backed up a step, yet steel flashed and scraped against each other as the man sought an opening.

Kedar blocked each strike until he heard a cry from behind him. "Azur!" He twisted, but felt the burn as steel bit into his upper arm. He gritted his teeth against the pain as he fought to keep grip of his sword. Azur lay face-down on the stone floor, a dark stain creeping through silk. Beyond him lay one of the attackers, staring lifelessly. The other two charged the prince.

Kedar lashed out at the first and he fell back, crying out in pain. The other rose up and backhanded Kedar, metal gauntlet slamming into the side of his face. Startled, the prince gasped and fell back.

He felt arms grab him from behind, then a blow to the head and all went dark.


** as I said, it's JUST a begining! Haven't been able to write much on it so far and I will also note that I have a co-author who helped create the storyline and settings but she also is currently working on another book. So this will probably be a while before it even gets fully written, but I put it on here because it's fun to read!**