A Writer's Love

Here is my first chapter:

THE PRINCE’S SECRET
Book One of
The Medallion Chronicles
from
The Chronicles of the King


You broke your vows, oh son of the morning star. Your eyes desired what you could not have and your hands stole what was not yours. Poisonous words seeped from your lips. You would make yourself like the Most High and your throne would rise above the heavens. We would be your servant and you would be Our god. So We cast you from Our sight and threw you into the very pits of hell.


-The Book of Ueje, The Words of the Attiyq, The Ancient of Days.

Hidden secrets betray us and become our masters – King Broden, first King of Ezasu in the year 256 from the Chronicles of the King, Volume I, Passage 16

From the Chronicles of the King, Volume 13, Passage One, Chapter One.

It is not good when a prince sits in his father’s cell. Seventeen year old Prince Conell De Caprise, son of Efuko De Caprise, the now dead King of Ezasu, pressed his back agaist the cold stone wall. Five years of hearing the screams of the tortured prisoners drifting down the darken, wet halls, of sleeping with rats and crawling insects, the stench of rotting corpses and mold lingering in the air and five years of knowing the now queen who betrayed his family sat on his father’s throne. And it was his fault. If Emer knew why they had ended up in the prison, he would lose his friend forever. He rubbed his forehead, then brought up his knee and dangled his wrist over his knee cap. But soon he and his companions would be gone and then everything would be fine. At least he hoped it would be fine.

His young captain sat the last brick into the stoned wall. “There,” Emer said, turning to him. “They will not see the hole.”

Conell nodded and gave his captain a small smile. “You have made it invisible.”

Emer shrugged. “I can still see the lines, but I think the guards will not see it in the dim light.”

The young prince raised his eyebrows, but nodded. “Still, the Maul would be pleased.”

“My clan is dead, so it makes no difference if they are pleased,” Emer said, stuffing more dirt into the cracks.

Conell shook his head. “As I said, it will be good to leave this place.”

“What of Frigg?”

Conell glanced at the door. It had been a while since the guards dragged the young man from the cell. “Hopefully he can walk.”

The cell lock jingled and the door swung open. Toal stood in the doorway, his fat body filling up the doorframe. A sneer crossed the guard’s flabby lips. Emer straighted and glanced at his prince; Conell raised his hand, keeping his captain in his place. He narrowed his eyes at the large guard. Toal may have thrown him into this hell hole, but it would be the guard whom the others would bury, not the son of Efuko. Toal tossed a person smaller than Frigg into the cell. “Here is company for you, your Highness,” Toal said. “Her name is Chuoha.” Her legs stumbled beneath her, but she regained her balance and turned to him. Toal laughed, then slammed the cell door. .

Emer made his way to Conell. “Who is Chuoha?”

“MY NAME IS IMOGENE KATHERINE BREASLEY!” The young girl pounded and kicked the wooden door, sending echoes across the stoned cell.

Conell raised his eyebrows as he stared at the girl through the dimmed light. “Take care, my Captain,” he said in his native tongue, keeping his voice low. “This could be a trick from Jezebel.”

“Perhaps,” Emer replied. “Or maybe she is just as innocent as us.”

Finally the girl grew quiet and leaned her head against the wooden door. Soft whimpers crossed the room. Never had he seen a woman in pants as a man’s and a short sleeved yellow top. She had to be of the Northern Territories.

“Let us test this small one,” Conell said, rising from the stoned bench. “Well, Chuoha, it is good to know you have strong lungs.” The girl grew silent and stared at the closed door. “Now you are silent? Chuoha, you must learn to take one or the other.”

“Moji,” Emer said, giving him a jab in the ribs.

The girl turned and faced them. The torch near the door spread its dim light over her pale face, leaving him in the safety of the shadows. She was thin, but not as someone trapped in this prison and looked younger than him. Tear paths trailed down her dirty white cheeks and leaves stuck in her curly blond hair. Her lowered lip trembled. He leaned to Emer. “We approach this with caution.”

“But -,” Emer said. Conell held up his hand. The girl’s wide gaze followed the moldy stoned walls to the ceiling where the spider webs hung. She cringed.

“Please help me,” she whispered, squinting at him. She placed a shaking hand to her forhead, shielding her eyes from the torch light. “That man brought me here. I‘m not suppose to be here,”

Conell rose an eyebrow. Not be here? No one belongs in this hell. Who does this tiny Chuoha think she is? “Not supposed to be here?” he asked, taking slow steps towards her. “My, my, my, you think you are better than me, Chuoha?” His footsteps crunched on the dirt floor, forcing her to press against the cold wooden surface.

“No!” Her voice sounded more like steam escaping a pot. “I just want to know . . . where am I? Why am I here?”

How could she not know this was Jezebel’s prison? If she was a watcher, then she would not survive long amongst enemies. He pressed forward, making her shrink from him. No one would be this childlike.

Her gaze lingered on his eyes, then dropped to the ground. He leaned forward and she grimace, bringing her fingers to her nose.

“Where are you?” he asked, whispering in her ear. “Ioole Chaj, leep to aeepa vozo.”

Her brows knitted together, and she tried to speak, but said nothing.

“Be careful, Moji,” Emer called. “Do not let the stones hear you using the Forbidden tongue.”

The prince flipped his fingers. “I will not let Jezebel rule me.”

“Again, watch that tongue,” Emer said. “You might find it missing one day.”

Conell snorted.

“I don’t understand what you said,” the girl whispered.

He stepped back. Jezebel’s slaves were the only ones who were prohibited from speaking the Language of the Attiyq. His fists pressed against his side. Her screams would bring back Ruarc and Toal. But what was she after? Him and Emer would be executed tomorrow, so why send a watcher now?

He turned to Emer and said in his language, “The girl is a watcher, be careful what you say.” Then he turned back to her and said in her language, “’Witch Prison, home of the forgotten’ in your tongue.”

“Why am I here?” she whimpered. A tear inched down her face.

Many women had used tears to break his heart; this one would not be so easy. He leaned into her, pressing his right hand against the door, his right arm locking her in place. “I am sorry, Chuoha,” he said, cocking his ear to her face. “I did not hear your words. You must speak up for me.”

“I want to go home. I want my mom,” she whimpered, her teary gaze locked on the dirt floor.

“I am afraid that is impossible. You are in Jezebel’s Prison,” he said, crossing his large arms over his chest.

“Who’s Jezebel?”

“Jezebel is now the queen of this land. She has sat on my father’s throne for ten long years.”

She lifted her face to him and shook her head. “A queen? What queen? There’s no queen over us. We have a president.”

Conell flicked his fingers and walked away from her. “You must be insane or a watcher.”

Emer stepped from the shadows and led her to a stoned bench. “Maybe you should sit down.” She flinched as a large black rat scurried from under a pile of dirty hay covered with a blanket.

“My name is Emer Muiris Amgrets, son of Cadoc Ailill Amgets” Emer said. “Captain of the Prince’s army. And he is Moji, prince in your tongue, Conell De Caprise, son of Efuko De Caprise, last reigning king of Ezasu.”

“Is this hell?” she asked.

“Some have used that word before,” Emer said, taking a seat beside her. “You are in Iool Chaj a prison for those who fight against the Witch-Queen Jezebel, whom as the Moji said, now rules this land. You must have wandered into Yoem Eoko, Demon Forest. Only those who escape from the prison or rebels seeking to attack the guards wander into that cursed place.”

She closed her eyes and rubbed her forhead. “I don’t know a Jezebel and I didn’t wonder into any Forest. I was in Glen Oak Park,” she said, stressing each word. “Then I was in the woods. There is no Demon Forest around here.”

“What is this Glen Oak Park you speak of?” Emer asked.

“It’s a park where people go to have fun; you know picnics, Frisbees, playing with dogs? Fun stuff!” Her voice rose with each word.

Conell leaned against the wall beside Emer and nudged him on the shoulder. “What is a park and Frisbees?” he asked in his native tongue.

His captain shrugged. “What were you doing in this ‘park’?” Emer asked.

“I was there because I broke the law,” she said, twisting her fingers. “I did what they wanted me to do; I followed all of the judge’s orders. This isn‘t suppose to happen. I had an hour left and then I was going home for my sweet sixteenth birthday or what was left of it. I’m supposed to be home now. I‘m not supposed to be here!”

“Calm down,” Emer said, patting her arm.

Conell straightened. “What orders?”

“I know it was wrong,” she said, gazing at the floor. A cockroach scurried across the straw covered stoned floor. She jerked up her feet and wrapped her arms around her chins. “But I wanted the others to like me, so I went along with them. They wanted to spray graffiti on the school building. I knew I shouldn’t have gone, but I did, I wanted them to think I was cool. But when the cops showed up, they found a bag of weed on my friend and we were all arrested. The judge said since this was my first offense, he’d let me off with one hundred hours of community service. I was doing what they wanted, cleaning the park, when I found this.” She pulled a large medallion hanging from a gold chain from around her neck and passed it to Emer. Conell’s gaze flickered to his captain.

“I found it in a bush,” she said. “I reached for the gold chain and it . . . wrapped around my wrist and then I was here. Then it was around my neck. I didn’t put it there. Then that . . . man found me.” She placed her fingers on her throat. “He put a knife to my throat. I thought he was going to kill me. . . I just want to go home. I want my mom.”

Emer burrowed his brow and frowned. “My Lord, have you seen such a thing?” he asked, handing it to the prince.

Conell held the medallion under the dim light. “It is very old, but I am unsure of the age. The writings look like those in my father’s ancient scrolls. But I can not read it. It is written in the old tongue.” He gave it back to the girl.

“I don’t want it,” she said, pushing it way. “I was going to sell it, get some cash for it. But I‘ve changed my mind.”

“I think it would be best if it hung around your neck, not mine,” Conell said, slipping the chain over her head.

The prison door swung open. Ruarc strolled into the room. His large belly jiggled under his sweat stained black shirt. The captain rose from the bench and stood before the guard. Conell glanced down at the girl, then pulled her from the bench. If she was a watcher, then he wanted her close to him.

Toal pushed Frigg into the room and Ruarc threw him to the ground. A deep moan escaped the young man. He tried to rise but his elbows buckled. The girl moved toward him, but Conell held her arm. Conell’s stomach ached like a boulder had fallen upon him. This was his fault, his doing. And now Frigg paid for his foolish mistake. His closed his eyes, forcing the harsh memory away. All that mattered now was taking Emer and Frigg to the safety of the Southern Borders. The girl could stay in Jezebel’s cell.

Ruarc smirked at Emer and took three steps toward the Prince’s guard. Toal leaned against the doorway and used his knife to clean under his nails. “Be careful, brother, he is a Maul,” he said, snickering.

Ruarc snorted. “I do not fear this tiny Maul fly.”

“Well, well, well,” Emer said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Jezebel’s dogs have come to visit us. Did the witch run out of scraps for her pets?”

Ruarc narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps I can give a message to your father and brother warriors? I am sure they would love to hear from one who seems forgotten.” He shook his head and frowned. “Forgive me, captain, I had forgotten about their tragic end.” Toal snickered.

Emer narrowed his eyes and slightly lifted his head, but said nothing.

Ruarc caught Imogene‘s wide gaze. “Hello, Chuoha, I apologize for the poor dwellings. Perhaps you would rather be with me?”

Conell glanced down at her as her nails dug into his arm. He furrowed his brow. Was this part of her act, or did Ruarc hurt her? Emer stepped in front of Ruarc, blocking her view. “I heard you enjoy placing your steel against young women’s throats, perhaps you are man enough to do that with me since I am ‘forgotten’ and the last of my kind?”

Conell snickered. “Well said, Emer.”

Ruarc gritted his teeth and grabbed his sword. But his brother grabbed his arm and pulled him from the cell. “Save your anger, Ruarc,” said Toal. “Tomorrow your sword will taste their blood.”

Before leaving, Ruarc wiggled his fingers at her. “Do not fret, Tiny Chuoha. Tomorrow we will be together.”

Once the guards slammed and locked the wooden door, Emer and the prince rushed to the young man on the floor. Gingerly, Conell turned Frigg over and brushed back his red hair. Pain covered Frigg’s young freckled face. “Frigg, what happened?”

A soft groan rose from his chapped lips. “My Liege, I do not know what they seek. They beat me with staffs, yet asked no questions.”

“Here, let me help him,” Imogene said, kneeling beside them. “I know First Aid.”

Conell glared at her. “First what?”

“Please, I can help him,” she said. “I work as a Candy Stripper in a hospital. The doctors always let me help in the ER.”

“The doctors do what?” Conell asked, growling at her.

“You need to move,” she said, squeezing between him and Emer. Conell stood over her, glaring at this small betrayer.

She gently rolled Frigg to his side and lifted his shirt. Blood dripped from the thick purple slashes criss-crossing his shoulders down to his lower back.

“I will get you some water,” Emer said.

“No,” she said, grabbing his arm. “The water here must be very dirty. If we place it on the wounds, they may become infected. He could die. No, I need something to stop the bleeding, a clean cloth, if you have one. I’ve never known of a prison that beats the inmates so severely.”

Emer and the young prince exchanged fleeting glances, but said nothing. The captain slipped off his gray shirt and handed it to her. “This is all I have. It is not clean as you asked. There is nothing else here.”

She nodded and turned Frigg over onto his stomach. Then she bunched the dirty shirt into a small ball and gently pressed the fabric against Frigg’s back. His body jerked as she placed more pressure on the wounds. “I’m sorry,” she said, wincing. After a time, she lifted the cloth. The bleeding had stopped. Emer and Conell lifted the young man to his feet and led him to the stoned bench.

“Be careful,” she said, sitting beside him. “He may start to bleed again. He really needs to see a doctor.”

“A doctor? What is a doctor?” Conell growled. This game grew tiring.

“A doctor. You know, someone who heals others using medicine,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

A snicker escaped him. “You are a stranger to hell, Chuoha. ‘Doctors’ do not live in Ioole Chaj.” He sat on the other side of Frigg and snatched the cloth from her, then dabbed his friend’s back.

“Stop that,” she said, reaching behind the young man and pulling the bloody shirt from his fingers. “You’ll make it bleed again. He needs to rest so he can regain his strength.”

Emer stood over Conell and frowned. “Moji,” he said in the Forbidden tongue.

“It is obvious the girl is ill. Her mind is gone and you know I cannot leave her behind to suffer from the hands of Toal and Ruarc. You know what they would do to her. We must take her with us.”

Conell looked up at him from the corner of his eye. “Has your memory left you so quickly? Remember how Jezebel befriended us, only to confine us in Father’s prison? I will not give my hand to another so quickly.”

“I made an oath before the elders of my tribe when I was just a child,” Emer said, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I will not break that oath even though they are dead. The girl is ill and the Attiyq demands that I show mercy to the ill. Do not make me choose.”

“Ok, enough of this,” she said, jumping to her feet and shoving her hands on her hips. “It’s obvious that you’re talking about me. Please have enough courtesy to say it to my face.”

Conell sat back and rubbed his chin. For a spy, this little one had a great spirit. “Well, Little Chuoha, we are talking about escaping tonight and what to do with you. Emer thinks your mind is ill and the ways of the Voobo-Maul demand that he cares for you, so we must take you with us, yet I wonder if you truly are insane.”

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, dropping onto the bench and staring at him.

He rose and towered over her, making her shrink against the stone wall. “Jezebel sent you.”

She shook her head and rose from the bench. Her small hands gestured to the door. “No! I told you what happened. I don’t even know a Jezebel!”

“Ah, yes,” Conell said, nodding his head and slipping his hands behind his back. “You grabbed a strange medallion, which magically brought you here from the place of parks, doctors and, what were the words? Ah, community service. It is an imaginative story.”

“But it did happen!”

“We could bind her with some strips of cloth,” Conell said, motioning to the blanket on the straw. “We would still have a day’s journey ahead of them.”

“Moji,” Emer said, stepping in front of the girl. “I will not leave her in the hands of Ruarc and Toal. Plus we are to die tomorrow, why would the witch send a watcher now? The Attiyq would never forgive me if we left one who was so ill. I made a promise, Moji, and I am to keep it.”

“If I was a spy, why would I help him?” she asked, pointing to Frigg.

“Her words hold wisdom, Moji,” Emer said, raising his eyebrows.

He glared at his captain then back to her. “And what if you are a watcher of Jezebel’s and you convince us you are innocent, then you betray us.”

“I swear,” she said, gritting her teeth. “If you don’t take me with you, I will scream at the top of my lungs and tell the guard everything.”

“She has you in a net,” Emer said, grinning.

Conell growled. He pushed Emer aside, making her step back. “I could break your neck, then who would you tell?”

“Go ahead,” she said, standing on her toes, meeting his stare. He raised his eyebrows. “Kill me now,” she said. “I’d rather die then rot in this hellhole. Anyway, how do I know you‘re not just a bad dream?”

The prince’s rough fingers wrapped around her chin. Her brown eyes grew wide. “If you are so eager to join us, I will take you with us. But if you betray me or my friends,” he said, drawing her trembling face towards his. “Then I will break your tiny neck and leave you to die alone. Then you would long to be in Ruarc’s arms.”

“I promise you,” she whispered, her face turning white. “I won’t betray you. Please. I just want to go home.”

Conell released her, then turned to Emer. “Watch her. Chuoha,” Conell said. “Emer and I both will have our eyes upon you.”

She nodded and clenched her trembling hands together. “I promise, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Conell snorted then moved beside Emer. “Show her.”

Emer nodded and made his way to the back wall. He extracted a brick, then another, making a small hole. “Come here, Imogene Katherine Breazley.”

“Please, call me Imie,” she said, giving him a small smile. “It’s what my friend calls me. And what is or are the Atteek?”

He smiled. “The Attiyq is our God. He is holy and just. He commands that the Maul must care for the ill. I am of the Maul clan, so you have no worries. See the large hole? We discovered it a few days ago when the guards put us in this cell. We found a loose brick, then a small tunnel. The previous prisoners must have been digging here. We believe it leads into the woods behind the prison, although we are not certain.”

The hole was completely black. She pulled away. “How did they know a tunnel was back there?”

He shrugged. “King Broden had made many tunnels that criss-crossed beneath the land. His soldiers had used those years ago during the war with the Southern Lands. The prisoners may have known of them, then dug into it. They must have been digging for a long time. But I am only guessing. They were executed before they could use it.”

“Why didn’t you guys use it earlier?” she asked.

Emer gave her a tight smile. “Because we have only been here for a few days, tomorrow we are to be executed. We must leave tonight.”

“How do you know it’s safe? And how did you find it? And where’s the dirt?”

Conell glanced at Emer who shook his head. “Emer found a loose brick,” Conell said. “The dirt is in the main tunnel. And if you would prefer Ruarc’s company . . .”

She took a deep breath. “No, of course not. But how do you know which way to go?”

“You ask many questions for one who wishes to leave, Chuoha,” Conell said, cocking his head. “We do not know, but as I said, we will leave you with Ruarc if that is your choice.”

She shook her head.

“We leave tonight,” Emer said, replacing the brick and stuffing dirt between the cracks. “Tomorrow the prince turns eighteen and we are to be executed. We have no choice.”

The girl looked back at the tunnel, then at the door. She bit her trembling lip, but avoided his eyes. Perhaps he was wrong and she was innocent, or maybe he was right. “The guards will check each cell before retiring for the night,” Conell said. “We will wait until the last sentry call to leave this hell. The darkness will shield us.”

“My prince,” Frigg said, licking his dry lips, “I will only hold you back. Leave me here.”

Conell wrinkled his brow and sat next to his friend. “No, my friend, I will not leave you here to die amongst the wolves. If I must, I will carry you to Shes Cheez.”

Imogene cocked her head at Emer and mouthed -Shes Cheese?

“Mother’s Hills,” he said, grinning at her.

Conell frowned at her, and her cheeks burned red.

A hacking cough attacked Frigg. His face turned deeper gray and he struggled to catch his breath. Imogene rushed to Frigg’s side. “Just try to take deep breaths,“ she said, pushing back his hair. He grasped her fingers as his lungs fought to expand. “Now let it out, slowly,” she said. He nodded and the coughing ceased.

The prince laid his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Be strong, Frigg, by tomorrow we will be safe.” He stared at the girl. Either this was the worst mistake he had ever made or a blessing. Of course, trusting Jezebel was his worst mistake, but was this worse than that?