extracts from book 1

We started to walk back to the castle in silence. My stomach was twisted into a knot of nerves, something still felt wrong about all of this, and then I heard a scraping sound, the sound of metal against leather. Hard hands pushed me forward suddenly. I stumbled and fell, down onto the gravelled path. The cold hard chips of gravel cut my palms as I put my hands out to protect me and I cried out in pain and surprise. When I turned over I saw Trellany, her sword shining in the moonlight, engaged with two men, both dressed in black.

“Run,” Trellany snapped at me, over her shoulder. “Prince Candale, just go!”

She didn't need to tell me twice. I scrambled to my feet, not pausing to brush the stones from my clothes or from where several of the smaller ones were now imbedded in my hands, and I fled.

I raced up the gravelled path my heart pounding. The sound of metal clashing against metal followed me, sounding so loud against the drum of my own heart and my ragged gasps for breath. I was getting a stitch, the ground was uneven and I was stumbling across it, but still I ran on, driven by my thoughts, by my own shame, as much as any real fear.

I was a coward, my inner voice told me. I had turned and run, leaving Trellany, leaving a woman , alone, behind me, to fight for me. A coward, and yet, she had told me to run. She had told me to leave, and out of the two of us, it was she who was armed. But even knowing that if I had stayed I would have just gotten in the way didn't help my guilt any. Trellany, a woman, of the Royal Guard, was fighting for me and I had turned and ran away. I was a coward and I was an idiot. I had led us both into this and who knew what was going to happen to her now, because of me.

But still I ran on, my thoughts racing, my heart pounding, until something hard hit me in my back and I fell down, crashing into a flowerbed.

Pain shot through my body, racing along my spine and I gasped as I struggled to breathe. And then I felt it, a familiar pressure in my skull, in the back of my neck and in my shoulders, a dull, throbbing ache that meant only one thing.

A hard boot against my belly kicked me to lie flat on my back and I saw a spark of silver, a sword glinting in the moonlight. A man stood over me, dressed in black, his face shadowed in the darkness. And as I stared up at him, he levelled the sword against my throat. I could feel the cold steel pressed to my skin and a warm trickle of blood ran slowly down my neck as the blade nicked it. I swallowed nervously against its cold point, not daring to breathe too deeply in case the blade cut me further. My heart was thundering and blood had rushed to my head, but no other part of me could move. My legs and arms felt heavy, numb, as though they were no longer part of me and my throat was thick. The pain in my back and stomach was intense and through it all I could feel that pounding in my skull.

“Don't,” I whispered. “Please.” I blinked back tears from my eyes. I was facing my death here, staring up at its shadowed features and the cold steel that would take my life. “Please,” I whispered again, and this time I wasn't sure if I addressed the man who stood over me, or my own body. “Don't do this. Please. Don't do this!”

“I am sorry, my prince,” the voice was soft, gentle. “It has to be done. It will be easier for us all, for you, for your family, for everyone, if we do this now before things go too far.”

“Please,” I gasped again. I closed my eyes, the pain was increasing inside my skull, I nearly couldn't stand it. I moaned. It was coming, I could feel it. It was going to happen. . . “Please-.”


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		Extract from Book One
	:: Extract From Book One :: Images From Book One :: Back John Erickson Illustration & Graphic Design johnraptor@aol.com www.geocities.com/johnraptor_socal	We started to walk back to the castle in silence. My stomach was twisted into a knot of nerves, something still felt wrong about all of this, and then I heard a scraping sound, the sound of metal against leather. Hard hands pushed me forward suddenly. I stumbled and fell, down onto the gravelled path. The cold hard chips of gravel cut my palms as I put my hands out to protect me and I cried out in pain and surprise. When I turned over I saw Trellany, her sword shining in the moonlight, engaged with two men, both dressed in black. “Run,” Trellany snapped at me, over her shoulder. “Prince Candale, just go!” She didn't need to tell me twice. I scrambled to my feet, not pausing to brush the stones from my clothes or from where several of the smaller ones were now imbedded in my hands, and I fled. I raced up the gravelled path my heart pounding. The sound of metal clashing against metal followed me, sounding so loud against the drum of my own heart and my ragged gasps for breath. I was getting a stitch, the ground was uneven and I was stumbling across it, but still I ran on, driven by my thoughts, by my own shame, as much as any real fear. I was a coward, my inner voice told me. I had turned and run, leaving Trellany, leaving a woman , alone, behind me, to fight for me. A coward, and yet, she had told me to run. She had told me to leave, and out of the two of us, it was she who was armed. But even knowing that if I had stayed I would have just gotten in the way didn't help my guilt any. Trellany, a woman, of the Royal Guard, was fighting for me and I had turned and ran away. I was a coward and I was an idiot. I had led us both into this and who knew what was going to happen to her now, because of me. But still I ran on, my thoughts racing, my heart pounding, until something hard hit me in my back and I fell down, crashing into a flowerbed. Pain shot through my body, racing along my spine and I gasped as I struggled to breathe. And then I felt it, a familiar pressure in my skull, in the back of my neck and in my shoulders, a dull, throbbing ache that meant only one thing. I grunted in pain and rolled onto my side to try and get to my feet. A hard boot against my belly kicked me to lie flat on my back and I saw a spark of silver, a sword glinting in the moonlight. A man stood over me, dressed in black, his face shadowed in the darkness. And as I stared up at him, he levelled the sword against my throat. I could feel the cold steel pressed to my skin and a warm trickle of blood ran slowly down my neck as the blade nicked it. I swallowed nervously against its cold point, not daring to breathe too deeply in case the blade cut me further. My heart was thundering and blood had rushed to my head, but no other part of me could move. My legs and arms felt heavy, numb, as though they were no longer part of me and my throat was thick. The pain in my back and stomach was intense and through it all I could feel that pounding in my skull. “Don't,” I whispered. “Please.” I blinked back tears from my eyes. I was facing my death here, staring up at its shadowed features and the cold steel that would take my life. “Please,” I whispered again, and this time I wasn't sure if I addressed the man who stood over me, or my own body. “Don't do this. Please. Don't do this!” “I am sorry, my prince,” the voice was soft, gentle. “It has to be done. It will be easier for us all, for you, for your family, for everyone, if we do this now before things go too far.” “Please,” I gasped again. I closed my eyes, the pain was increasing inside my skull, I nearly couldn't stand it. I moaned. It was coming, I could feel it. It was going to happen. . . “Please-.” Pain exploded inside my skull and the fit hit me.
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Extract from Book One