The Prince

                The king burst into the practice room where his son's Battle-Master had been teaching the boy. Looking around he saw his son sitting in the corner in shock. The boys trainer lay in a puddle of his own blood, his organs pulped and his bones shattered.

                "My son is insane," exclaimed the king. "The boy goes into a rage at the merest hint of spilt blood!"
         
         "King Charon you must excuse him, he has the blood of nine other warrior kings past in his blood," the courtier said try to calm his king down, "The prophecy said that we should expect that the tenth king of the warrior nation will be the most battle heartened."

         "Battle heartened is not the phrase for it, Theos." The king stated with an exasperated sigh. "The boy is cursed to doom us unless, of course, we can sate his hunger for battle."

         We must train him to battle properly, if he nearly killed his trainer with his fists at age five, then what will he be capable of in his prime," Theos inquired "Charon, we must have him trained not only to battle but to control his strength."

         "Fine, but I only know of one being that can help channel that much power at once, and I'd rather not deal with him right now," Charon stated with a look of worry in his eyes.

         "That cannot be helped, I've already been summoned to help you with your problem," a gravelly, otherworldly voice stated calmly from behind the king "The boy will come with me and you will see him next on his 15th birthday."

         "Marcus goes nowhere," the king tried to say, but the demon had already vanished with his son.

TEN YEARS LATER

The castle square was alight with joy and anticipation as all the guests awaited the return of the prince of their nation. In fact the nation of Merdonel itself was awaiting the return. Prince Marcus was so charming at five, the women of Merdonel wanted to see how charming he would be as a full grown man.

When the sun was in its highest point in the sky there was a cacophonous blast and a cloud of smoke. The blast jarred the teeth of the spectators waiting to see their prince for the first time in so very long. They did not have to wait much longer. A tall, compact but muscular figure concealed in a cloak walked out of the smoke and towards the crowd.

"My people, I am your prince," Marcus yelled, "any who would wish to challenge my skill with a sword can attempt to do so at this time tomorrow, but now I must rest, I am no demon so teleporting takes a lot out of me!"
         
         With that the prince walked out of the square and into the castle where his parents where waiting for him. Instead of stopping for them however he just walked into his old room and called the maid in.

         "Draw up a bath for me, after ten years in the abyss I would enjoy a bath," the prince stated with a yawn "and if you would once I am in the bath retrieve me new clothes, I doubt the old ones will fit."

         Without a word the maid did as she was told and left soon after. Marcus drew of his cloak to reveal his face. While he had matured into a handsome young man, the people would still be too curious about the scar that he received when he first tried to fight the demon. Only after he had proved that he was still a better fighter than all others in the kingdom would he take off the mask that he would were , for when you are to be in power your people should not pity you, you should pity them. His figure was small for his tall frame but it was layered with much muscle. The prince stepped into the warm water and started to scrub the black soot that had helped him to hide and survive in the abyss. When the soot was removed he stepped out of the water to reveal his bronzed skin. The maid had left him a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a new cloak with his family's symbol embroidered in golden silk on the back. Dressing quickly he put on the pants, threw the shirt and donned his new cloak. Making sure that the hood covered his face fully, he stepped out of the room and went to talk with his father about tomorrow's fight.

         Walking into the throne room, Marcus closed the door and ordered the royal guards out. They where reluctant to leave but when the prince threw the first one out unceremoniously onto his face the others follow of their own will. As soon as the last guard left Marcus put the bar across the door to discourage any unannounced guests. Walking up to his father, the prince took down his hood to see his father's reaction. If his father's response was negative then that would most likely be the response of the rest of a kingdom under his control. His father reacted with relative ease against what he thought might kill him with disgrace.

         "Your face," Charon stammered with disbelief that soon turned to outrage, "where did you receive such a scar!"

         "I got it from Eligos, the demon that I spent ten years of my life with in the abyss! I'm sorry, I am still a little anxious now that I am back to the a ‘normal' setting"

         "That is understandable, my son. The abyss is no place for a man let alone a boy."

         "Then why would you send me there to learn with him, why not to learn with an celestial instead of a fallen one? Why him? I just don't see why I couldn't learn with a being less cruel."

         "Do not ask me why, Theos is the one who summoned the fallen one, and he did so without my approval. I was going to find a way to convince Michael to take you, to teach you."

         "It is alright father, at least I can control myself now, which should be all that matters."

         "Yes, it is, but anyway what is it that you wanted to talk to me about, I doubt that you threw out my guards just to show me this."

         "Oh, right! I was going to ask if you would set up a fighting pavilion so that I could show the kingdom just what ten years in the abyss did for me before I show what it did to me."
         
"Anything you wish, my son, it is to be your kingdom soon. I think that you should see what it is like to gain access to anything that you would want now. Just be sure to think of the repercussions ahead of time."

         Marcus then put the hood of his cloak up to once more conceal his scarred face. He then took the bar from the door a quickly as he could and let the guards leaning against the door fall into the room when the door opened. Shaking his head Marcus walked out into the hall and down to the castle's armory to choose his weapons for tomorrow. Upon arriving he chose a suit of armor, along with a lance, three spears, two long swords, a bow, an axe, and a dagger. The armor and weapons that Marcus had chosen all had things in common. They were all old rusted and looked like they had seen a lot of use. These factors were exactly what he needed. Laying all of his collected items in a row, Marcus sprinkled them with a layer of soot, gold dust, and diamond dust. When the layer was applied he started waggling his fingers and chanting over the items. The items started to glow and Marcus closed his eyes and envisioned what he wanted his new weapons and armor to look like. The items slowly started changing, some staying the same in shape, others changing, but all taking on new appearances. The soot on all of the objects started to disappear and the items that he had collected started to turn black. The gold was the next thing to go transforming the trim of each item. The diamond dust sunk into the items next and there was no visible change but he still knew what it had done, the items were now as black as night, with trim as gold as the sun, and as hard as diamonds cut strait from the earth, and the age and heavy use turned into sheer power. The armor was now his size and as elegant as a king's with curves at every juncture, with the image of a dragon on his chest and pauldrons shaped like the head of a dragon. The bow was now made from ebony and the string looked as if it were gold filigree. The lance was black with a golden spiral down its entire length. The long sword now had a black blade with gold running down the middle and a slight curve towards the end.

Satisfied, Marcus hid his new arms and armor under his bed. After such a work of magic he was tired, but with every work like this he got stronger and more proficient with it. Marcus settled into the bed and fell into a deep slumber, not even stirring until the next sunrise.

Marcus arose with a start, the sun shining on his face. The sun still hurt his eyes, set them aflame. Rolling over Marcus slipped his hood down over his head and got out of bed. Marcus retrieved his equipment from under the bed and but it in his pack. His pack he had received from Eligos before he left. It never filled up no matter how much you put in it and no matter how much is in it the item that you want is always on top, and it never got any heavier than fifty pounds.

Marcus ran down stairs to get himself some breakfast. After finishing his breakfast Marcus went to the stable. Marcus found his fathers fastest horse, his strongest horse and his smartest horse and lined them up. Taking out his dagger, Marcus cut hair from the main of each horse. Taking the hair, he weaved it into a long braid. The next thing that he did was make a small nick on each horse to get some blood. Putting the blood into a flask Marcus thanked each horse with a grain sack and a pat on the flanks. Marcus walked out of the stable and into the field. Kneeling, Marcus found himself some clay. Taking out the hair and the flask Marcus made a dip in the clay and poured the blood into it, followed by the braid of hair. While he mixed up his ingredients Marcus chanted, and the hair and blood became part of the clay. Marcus then shaped the clay into a ball and continued to chant. Soon the clay started to grow and take a more equine shape. After an hour of work Marcus had a full sized horse with all the qualities of the horses it was made of.

When he was finished Marcus led it to the stable to find a saddle that fit. Finding a saddle that fit, Marcus saddled the horse and put it in its own stable. The pavilion had three rings and two ranges and one jousting field. The rings would find ten finalists who were worthy to face him, the ranges would find the ten best that could throw a spear or shoot an arrow, and the jousting field would find the ten best jousters. Finding a place to sit down Marcus waited for people to arrive. Looking Marcus even saw that his father expected some injuries or even fatalities, for there were holy men abound. The clerics had the symbols of their various gods around their necks. The most common symbol was for the clergymen of Ilmater, god of mercy and healing. 

Two days later Marcus had his opponents narrowed down to the final thirty that were actually going to face him, ten for each round and whoever survived from the previous. They did not have to survive ten years in the abyss like he did. They would all fall quickly and he would not even have a decent challenge. He hunted for himself in the abyss; no one was more accurate than him, and nobody in this realm should be able to ride like him, for he learned on the back of a demonic steed. For sure nobody else had the best of both areas like him.

         His opponents enter the pavilion and Marcus could see that they mostly looked like veteran soldiers and young fighters. At least they could not see him under his cowl. Marcus started to get so excited for his upcoming victory that he started to become jittery. Instead of remaining seated, Marcus decided that he should warm up. The one large ring in the middle of the pavilion, the three small ones had been removed, was where he was going to stretch his muscles before the fight. A masked person slightly shorter than him, but with the same lean build, came up and started to stretch with him. Not wanting to be bothered, Marcus moved to the new range, which was twice as long as before, and started to use a spear shaft to keep his arms strait while he did more stretching. Once again the person came up and started to stretch, and nodded towards the prince. He moved away again and went to the track for jousting. Putting his legs up over the rail to stretch them, Marcus finished his regimen, and started back for the tent. The pavilion was starting to fill with people and the noise was extreme. Grabbing his bag Marcus ran in and put on a tight mask to keep his face hidden, for a hood might block his vision at the wrong moment. The first round of range was starting and Marcus got out his bow, spears, axe, and dagger; and ran up to finish. Throwing the spears Marcus hit all three targets, dead center. Only three other people did this, including the strange person in the mask who was following him earlier. Next thinking to give this man a reality check, Marcus threw his axe so that it stuck in the spear's shaft. The masked person, however, succeeded in this too. The person even tied Marcus when Marcus got his dagger to stick into it, and three arrows stuck in the axe handle. The match ran on into a tie. The jousting match would start the next day at noon.

         Marcus ran into the dressing tent, and donned his armor. Marcus ran into the tent to retrieve his horse, and lead it out to the jousting field. His opponents were slowly donning their own armor and running into the pavilion for their horses. The first man who Marcus was to face got knocked unconscious when his horse bucked him off. Apparently the lance hit the horse. The second opponent and all the others but one got thrown off by Marcus' lance as soon as they tried to fight him and two died of chest wounds. His final opponent was in red armor with black trim, so Marcus concluded that he must be fairly important. The match went on for three rounds, each round ending in them both getting knocked off of the horse when his opponent's lance his him square in the chest. His opponent helped him up in the last round and took off his helmet to reveal that, to Marcus' surprise, he was greeted by the same mask of the person that tied him in the range match. The pavilion was getting cleared out when the prince announced that tomorrow instead of him facing eighteen people he would just face the masked figure, who he decided to call Mask, who tied him in two out of three contests.

         Returning to the castle, Marcus put on his mask, and went to go get his dinner. He ran up to his room and ate it there. He spent the rest of his day making a more suitable mask. When he finally finish, he had a white mask with red around the eyes, and a black crescent for a mouth. He decided to too take the game to a new level. He took all of his enchanted objects off so that he would have no advantages over Mask. This would be a fair fight. He would prove himself to be the best without any help. The rest of his night consisted of practicing with weighted swords and going over his footwork. He would be prepared for his battle tomorrow.
         
         Marcus awoke at sunrise in his practice room, he had fallen asleep practicing. Stomach growling Marcus ran down to get himself some breakfast. Eating quickly he grabbed his bag, went to the pavilion to continue his practice. Upon entering the pavilion, Marcus did some laps to warm up and started to stretch, working on the muscles in his wrist for flexibility. Grabbing weights, he strapped them to his arm and picked out his weighted swords, which he had placed in his bag the night before. Starting off with the basic patterns, Marcus started to get faster and faster until he got up to his normal speed. Keeping the weights on his wrists, he started to add more weight to the swords, giving them another twenty pounds. Continuing this until his swords weighed half as much as he did, eighty pounds. Marcus was training himself to the brink. Reaching his normal swinging speed by noon, he thought that he would be able to beat Mask with newfound ease.

         Noon had come and the tent was packed, from the front to the back, with people. Marcus' new mask delighted his subjects, and made him look like a man painted for battle. Mask entered the tent with tight shoes, trousers and a robe with the hood tucked under the mask. A dagger and a short sword hung from his belt, different than his regal attire from the day before. Walking to the center of the ring, the opponents greeted each other, staring at the other with intense eyes.

The fight would start when a flag was dropped and Mask lounged at the prince who, seeing this, stepped to the left and brought his swords down quickly to his opponent's neck thinking to end it quickly. Swords whistling through the air, the prince had swung too fast, and could not correct himself when he saw that Mask had only feigned the lunge. Seeing Marcus' mistake, Mask rolled to the left and slashed at the back of Marcus' knee with his dagger. Continuing his swing, Marcus managed to get his sword down in time to bat off his enemy's blade. Mask fell into a swift backwards roll, and popped up in a defensive position. Marcus ran after Mask and brought one sword down on his head while feigning a right to left cut with the other. Mask put his sword up to catch the overhead blow, and placed his dagger to set the blow off high. The prince, having anticipated this, turned his blade to go towards his rival's neck mid swing. The blade whined to its destination, but was deflected with the grinding of metal. Soon the hits were being exchanged so fast that the crowd could see nothing, but could tell that the fight was still going for the singing of the swords.

         Jumping back, the combatants were running out of stamina, with each blow they were getting more and more sluggish. The crowd was amazed to see that while they expected each fighter to come out whole, Marcus had cuts all along his arms and his right side was tinted crimson. Mask, on the other hand was favoring his left leg and the spectators could see that his right was covered in his life's blood. The opponents stood there for what seemed like millennia, sizing each other up, looking for openings.
         
         Darting towards his adversary with renewed vigor, Mask could see that the prince was swaying with fatigue. Marcus on the other hand, who was only feigning fatigue, dropped to his back when his adversary came close. Kicking his opponent in the stomach, the prince took the needed time to get rid of what was slowing him down, the massive weights on his wrists. Cutting away the weights, Marcus would be quicker than his opponent. Rolling back into a defensive stance, Marcus let Mask come to him. Mask, who had recovered quickly, feigned a stab with his dagger, turning the forward momentum into a spin with his sword. Marcus sprang back, receiving a cut along his breast for not being quick enough. Both were to smart for feigns to work, so Marcus stabbed directly for Mask's heart, which unfortunately, Mask was doing to Marcus's.

          Both of the combatants staggered backward, steel pressing through their hearts. Both fell to the floor. Both bled their life's blood at a startling speed. The clerics rushed over to the prince and pulled the sword out none to gently. Chanting over the prince and touching his wound, the clerics healed him. Arising Marcus, still gasping in astonishment, went to check the state of his opponent.

         Grabbing Mask's mask, Marcus felt exhilaration at the thought of finally seeing the face behind the mask. It was a face that the prince had wondered about nonstop for the last three days. The mystery man would get a face, and Marcus would have something to associate with the skills.

         "My dear subject, I am soon going to unmask the face of my new general," Marcus bellowed loudly lifting the mask.
 
         Marcus looked down to glimpse the face underneath the mask. What he saw amazed him, the face was that of a beautiful young lady. Mask was the only man to ever give Marcus a challenge in a fight, and he was actually a she. The woman was about his age, maybe a little younger or older. The face was ashen with delicate looking lips. Her eyes were large orbs of fiery emerald. The eyes were glowing with an inner fire, though that fire was fast waning.

         "Cleric, quickly heal this woman," Marcus uttered almost inaudibly as a murmur went up through the crowd.

         The clerics rushed over to the woman he new as Mask, pushing the prince back. Soon the clerics were done with her and Marcus rushed over to her side. Helping her up, Marcus showed her to the awestruck audience. The woman, not liking the blood stained robe sticking to her, took off her robe and let her hair fall down. Her hair, which came into sight when she took of the robe, went down to her waist. The gleaming black hair ran like ink down her back until it was tucked into her belt.

         Marcus, turning to the crowd loudly proclaimed, "this is my new general or if she is willing, my new consort."
         "I am more than willing," announced the woman, smiling" but you don't even know my name!"

         The prince turned to her, removed his Mask, and announced, "Ah, but I do, you are the one person that would play with me as a child. You are Ceri."

         "So you do remember me," Ceri squealed jubilantly, "even after ten years."

               "The marriage will be held tomorrow, in this very tent," Marcus proclaimed with the first smile that he has had on his face in ten years.

         The prince kissed his fiancée and swaggered out of the tent with new joy. Running all the way to the castle, Marcus headed strait for his father's throne and told him his decision. His father, exuberant at the joyous news had his boy fitted for wedding attire, and sent a tailor to the house of the bride. When all was done, the prince ran up to his chambers and fell into his bed. He lay there thinking about everything until he could think no more and passed out.

         The next morning Marcus arose from his slumber, his wedding clothes were on the chair next to his bed. The clothes consisted of a gold and burgundy shirt made of soft velvet, with black silken slacks. The ensemble also had new, gleaming leather boots with rabbit trim, and a long mantle of the finest red deerskin.

         Marcus got dressed and hurried down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into the stables. He found his horse and saddled it so that he could ride his magnificent steed into the pavilion. Trotting along to the wedding, Marcus noticed that even the animals were traveling through life two by two. The sight of this alone made him giddy with joy at the thought of his bride.

         Arriving at his destination, Marcus tied his horse to a tree and ran inside. The wedding was planned to start at noon and it was almost time. Walking up to the altar, the prince took his place. The music started and his bride appeared in the doorway. The aura of beauty that surrounded her was incredible. The ceremony ran smoothly and Marcus scooped up his new love, and set her on the horse. Riding to the castle Marcus carried his bride to his chambers and set his new wife on the bed. This was the start of his new life, starting with a kiss to seal the pact.