Fascinate Young Writers Festival

This blog is a space for young writers to publish their work and inspire eachother.

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Daughter of the Sword by Vanessa Gray

The city of Calandir was set into the mountains, as if carved from the bare rock beneath. It stood tall and white under the star-strewn sky, as a cool wind rushed through the many crevices and alleyways, and whistled through the battle turrets.

The majesty of the city was breathtaking in itself, second only to the wondrous vista below. The amazing view was best seen from the seven tapered towers of the castle, which rose from the central depths of the city, tall and stately.

As the night slowly washed over the castle, set at the topmost point level of the city, the soft glow of the moon traced out an elven figure, poised on the whitewashed terrace, now shrouded in darkness. Princess Aradreal, was cloaked in a gown of midnight blue and she made neither a move nor sound as she breathed in the harsh cold night air. She was a beautiful young woman, of only nineteen. Even though her eyes glistened with moisture, as tears formed in her eyelids, something sinister, a speck of guilt, a hint of betrayal or perhaps a dash of triumph glazed the surface. Her long, wavy, dark hair swept back with the dry breeze that whipped around the city walls.

Princess Aradreal stood still on the Terrace, which by day was filled with nobles, entertainers and castle guards, but was now deserted. Her eyes shifted to look out towards the east, where a flame was glowing, and a battle had obviously taken place. The elven eyes and ears of Princess Aradreal had seen and heard every move of the warring sides. The men had been severely outnumbered.

Another elf, a slim male, with long blond hair, tied back from his face, Le’edor, approached her. For many weeks they had spent a great deal of time together, talking and laughing. A marriage was expected. But now, he was dressed in chain mail, long pants and a tunic, a length of leather cord held it around his waist. His bow hung from his hand, and he was covered in ash and dirt. The signature of a long fought battle was scrawled all over him. He asked her, “Please tell me you did not watch, that you did not see.” Her eyes suddenly grew wide, as she lifted her head and shifted her stance. “I saw everything,” she answered, a cold smile splitting her face.

She turned away from the glow, and swiftly like a raven swooping down upon its prey: she stormed through the doors of the castle, as graceful as a storm could be. Le’edor followed in fearful curiousity. When her footsteps roused a guard, she said nothing to him but a near silent “No”.

She threw open the gilded doors of the great hall and marched up to the throne of the king. She took a golden crown from the seat, glittering and bejewelled, and balanced it triumphantly on her hands, she proclaimed, “My father and brother are dead. I will replace him, and take up his sword, his lands and his throne.

She turned to find Le’edor’s expression had changed to that of fear, as he asked of her intentions. She pushed past him as she whispered, “I’m going to finish this.”
“Aradreal! You cannot bring them back! Aradreal they have fallen!” as she twisted from his grip.

She darted into a room, and returned with a silvery, grey cloak, which she threw around her shoulders, before she proceeded like a ghost down many flights of stairs to a large stable. She took and embossed black bow, and a quiver full of red tipped arrows, from a small room near the stable entrance. “Please Aradreal, you cannot leave. The enemy still lingers out there yet!”
“I will not let their deaths be forgotten, I won’t let the valour of my house break!” she screamed at him. “You have never raised your voice so, what has happened to you, have you been tainted by Ji’ashin? Has his foul arm extended so far as to touch you?”

“Don’t say the Dark Lords name!” her cold expressionless face still fixed upon the bundle she hastily strapped to the back of her horse. “Why? Aradreal he isn’t a Lord anyway. Only darkfriends call him Lord. You shouldn’t call him that”,
“Le’edor, you think you know what is best for me, but you just don’t see. I don’t need you Le’edor, it is you who needs me.”

She stared at him, nearly piercing him with her eyes. She turned to the courtyard and went to the edge, looking down at the gate below. “Anyway, what would you know about his power? Nothing!” and she grasped the bow tightly. As she walked away, Le’edor lowered his head sadly, “I swore you were fair and thought you were bright, though you are as black as hell, as dark as night.”

She took no further notice of him as she mounted her horse and set off down the path to the gates. She blocked out his pleading cries. The guards at the gates were given their orders in a condescending, dulcet tone. Aradreal rode her silver stallion through the open gates, and Le’edor followed. “Aradreal, what will you do if you even make it to Isgarthien?” he asked once more. Nearly crying she shouted, “Do you think I would let my father and brother be buried without settling this war? You know less of me than you could ever imagine.”
“You cannot take on an entire army yourself!” he shouted.

She turned to ride off and he called after her, “Aradreal, at least know this… I love you.” As she galloped into the night, her hair and cloak streaming behind her, Le’edor retreated back to the castle, to watch her ride away.


* * * * *






In the morning Le’edor still stood staring towards the horizon, now joined by Queen Arleddia. She was wearing a veil of black, and spoke in a soft tone to him, “Why do you despair so? We may have lost the King and the Prince, but there is still an heir to the throne who has not yet fallen. Can you not feel it? Or has sorrow clouded your vision?”

T’was four days since Aradreal had left: Le’edor was again watching the plains below, a streak of silver stole his gaze. A silver trotted into the city, and Aradreal slid gracefully off her horse, the bundle behind her was much larger and her fathers sword hung at her waist as if it had always been there. “The war is over. Our people are safe, though we have paid for it with many lives. I don’t think Ji’ashin will trouble us any longer.”

Aradreal was hailed as a hero, and was raised to the throne. Le’edor left, and was never seen in Calandir again.

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