Prologue Part 1

All right, so here is my latest project. I must say that I liked this writing more than any other I've written, so I hope people get the same amount of satisfaction from it. It's about seven and a half pages on MS Word, so I split it up into two parts here.

Also, I'd like to point out that the main story itself does not revolve around Lloyd, the focus of the prologue. This mainly serves as a description of the main aspects of magic in the story.

PROLOGUE

On the day he was supposed to die, Lloyd Tremblar wore black. All black, to mark him as a criminal and an enemy of the Protectors. Black, to symbolize the supposed evil that he had committed, and planned to continue.

He smiled. It was almost an honor to be held in such high esteem by the elders of the Order. It had taken them long enough. Lloyd had set his plans in motion years ago, and only now had the other Protectors realized what he was doing. Those Protectors who were still loyal to the elders, of course.

He sat on a sturdy wooden bench at one of the long tables in the feasting hall, idly watching the people dancing in the area that had been cleared in the center of the large stone room. The feast itself was over, but the real celebration was just beginning. The time had come for the drunken nobles to make fools of themselves on the dance floor. Very few had any real talent at the art. It seemed as though only the high nobles, the king, and the queen, seated on their raised dais at the far end of the room, kept a hold on their emotions. Nearly everyone else in the hall, if they were not dancing, were clapping and tapping their feet along to the rhythm.

They made Lloyd sick. True, he had once been like them, completely carefree. His role as a Protector had been an easy one. Like his fellows in the Order, he served the law, ending disputes as fairly as possible, and also keeping a handle on those that were lucky enough to possess any Spectrum Crystals. His station in Aldera was rather boring, actually; the Alderan people were generally peaceful.

After tonight, he hoped that would change.

A man detached himself from a group of onlookers and made his way toward Lloyd. Nonchalantly, he plopped down on the bench, facing the crowd. Lloyd glanced at him briefly, before returning his focus to the plate he had barely touched.

“Well?” he asked.

“There’s not much to say,” the man replied. “As expected, the king’s chamber is on the third story, pretty much right above where he is sitting now.”

“And how many guards are posted there?” Lloyd inquired.

“Half a dozen,” the man said. “But you can expect more to join them once the king and queen retire for the evening.”

Lloyd frowned. He had hoped the night’s activities would provide some entertainment, but it seemed that was not going to happen. He sighed inwardly and turned to face the man.

“Good work, Dren,” he said. “No one saw you, right?”

“Of course not,” Dren snorted. “I’m better than that.”

“That, and you blend in much more easily than I do,” Lloyd continued. It was true; Dren was of average height, with a strong build, brown eyes and hair, and a rather unassuming posture. He was an expert at blending into a crowd, and was easily forgotten by those who saw him.

Lloyd, on the other hand, cut quite the striking figure. He was tall, a few inches over six feet, and had an air of greatness about him. His bright green eyes and silver hair marked him as someone different, as did the unusual garb he typically wore: loose pants, a red sash around his waist, and a light sleeveless shirt. His outfit was no different today, except for the color change.

He looked toward the royal table, and smiled. Finally, the king and queen were taking their leave from the hall, as were several of the high nobles. Dehan’s son, Prince Gedric, remained behind. Conveniently, the king’s brother, Tordain, was not in attendance tonight. That would only further his plans.

The family did not announce themselves, so as to not draw attention to their departure. King Dehan was a shrewd man; he knew assassins like Lloyd were always watching. Despite the outward appearance of peace, Lloyd knew the power of the Alderan military. It was probably the reason they enjoyed so much tranquility.

Despite himself, Lloyd nearly laughed. He found the situation highly amusing. Here he sat, unwatched, in the feasting hall of a powerful king. A king that he was going to kill tonight. Lloyd had escaped his execution earlier that day. It was unfortunate for the Order that they had not been able to contain him, for Dehan’s death was one of the key points of his plan.

“Well, Dren, you should be off,” Lloyd said, turning back to his companion. “You know where you need to be.”

“Yes sir,” Dren answered. He drifted off, joining the crowd again, blending in perfectly. Lloyd knew that he would depart soon; it was foolish to leave immediately after the king, though.

He waited a full ten minutes before rising from the bench. A servant came and began to clean the place he had just occupied. Lloyd ignored the woman and walked slowly to the entrance of the hall. The large, oaken doors had been thrown wide open and held in place by blocks, showing that people were free to come and go as they pleased.

He stepped through the doors and into the wide hallway beyond. The cool air was a reprieve the heavy scent of bodies clustered together. Lloyd headed toward the nearest staircase. As he walked, he pulled a pair of black fingerless gloves from his pockets, slipping them on. A red crystal, about an inch in diameter, was set into the back of both gloves, and they seemed to glow from within.

Delicately, he untied the sash from around his waist, taking it in one hand. With a flick of the wrist, the sash straightened and began to change. The edges curled in, the ends shortening, taking on the shape of a weapon. At last, where the sash had been, Lloyd now held a long, single-edged sword. A small circular guard marked where the hilt met the blade. Like his gloves, a red crystal was set into the base of the blade, visible from both sides.

It was a Crysblade, the weapon of a Protector. The weapon was deadly, yet beautiful. All Protectors carried a blade like his, though they varied in length and crystals. Typically, Protectors chose crystals for their blades that matched the crystals in their gloves.

The Spectrum Crystals were the source of power for Protectors and other magic users. Lloyd believed there had been a time when people could wield magic through their own bodies, but that time was long past. Now, people were only born with only a tiny spark of magic, feeble remnant of a time long gone. Everyone had the latent ability to learn how to use their power; unfortunately, that power had to be channeled through a Spectrum Crystal.

Lloyd liked red. It was a color of power. Technically, he could perform any spell he knew, but the farther away he strayed from his color, the weaker the spell would become. It was part of the reason Lloyd liked to destroy rather than heal; healing was for the blue users.

The manifestation of the sword completed, Lloyd ascended to the third floor of the palace, taking note of the large quantities of torches that burned in rungs on the wall. They could be useful. Creating fire drained much more of his energy than simply controlling fire that already existed.

The hallway he entered was much like the one on the first floor: wide and devoid of people. It was almost a shame to not let people see him. After all, what was the satisfaction in doing something if no one saw him do the deed? At least the ones who mattered would know it was he who had killed King Dehan.

He turned down a side passage, heading north through the palace. Dren had said the king’s chambers were roughly above the feasting hall, which meant the royal bedroom overlooked the Alder Sea, the vast body of water that bordered Aldera to the north, and made Therin, its capital, a prosperous shipping city.

The hallways in the palace did not lead straight to the king’s chambers, of course. Lloyd was forced to take several more turns, often having to backtrack. It was designed to make those unfamiliar with the palace become lost, if they were foolish enough to travel around unescorted. Fortunately, Lloyd had a keen sense of direction, especially with the heightened senses the crystals afforded him.

He turned into another hallway, noticing how a rich red carpet extended down the middle of the floor. At last, he was drawing nearer to his destination. The twisting hallways made the palace appear larger than it really was, and he had wasted more time traversing them than he would have liked.

Torches lined the walls, allowing Lloyd to spot the two guards armed with spears standing just before the intersection of yet another tedious hallway. He strode confidently toward them, sword held facing downward by his side. When he was halfway to them, the man on the left turned his head, finally noticing Lloyd.

“You there,” the man called. “Stop!”

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Lloyd said cheerily, rapidly closing the distance between them.

“I said stop,” the guard said. They faced him, spears held level. Lloyd held up his free hand toward them. The crystal glowed as it channeled power through him. The sensation caused his whole body to tingle, giving him pain and ecstasy simultaneously. To channel with a Spectrum Crystal was to feel truly alive.

Before the guards could react, flames from a dozen different torches leaped from their brackets and assaulted the men. They screamed as the fire spread on their bodies, their armor only serving to cook them faster. Lloyd passed between them, dispatching both with a quick thrust, ending their torment. Normally, he would have enjoyed the show, but not tonight. He had other business to attend to.

He sent the fire whirling back down the hallway, spreading them among the torches they had come from. The sensation brought on by channeling faded, leaving him feeling numb in a way. The Spectrum Crystals did grant their wearers enhanced abilities, but channeling made those enhancements pale in comparison.

As he rounded the corner into the next hallway, four more guards came charging down the hallway at him, their spears poised to strike him before his sword could reach them. Again, Lloyd pulled on the power of his crystals, allowing it to feed on his spark, amplifying it a thousand-fold. Most of the torches in the hallways went dark as he drew the flames to him. A massive ball of fire appeared in front of him, and he sent it speeding down the hallway. It consumed the oncoming guards instantly. Lloyd allowed it to dissipate, stepping over the charred bodies.

He approached a set of richly gilded doors. These were the king’s chambers. He pushed the doors open and stepped into a large sitting room. Couches, chairs, and tables filled up most of the space, and bookshelves and busts of past kings lined the walls.

Ten soldiers stood in a semicircle, swords drawn, watching Lloyd carefully. Unlike the men in the hallway, these men were the king’s elite guard. They would have been trained to deal with any sort of intruder, whether he used Spectrum Crystals or not.

Lloyd looked around the room. It was lit by closed lanterns. He ground his teeth in annoyance; it was much harder to break through all the shutters to access the flames inside. Clearly, Dehan was prepared for such an eventuality. After all, most assassins tended to wield red crystals.

Lloyd stepped toward the waiting guards, raising his sword before him. As well-trained as they were, Lloyd was no ordinary assassin. He was a Protector. He had been trained in all forms of combat, from fighting with fists to fighting with blades. He doubted that these men would be much of a challenge, even if he did not use his crystals.

“Greetings,” Lloyd said, smiling. He was always happy when events went his way. People always seemed to find his cheery manner in the midst of death to be frightening. The guards, however, were not fazed.

“Well then,” Lloyd sighed. “Let’s get this over with.”

The red carpet beneath his feet was helpful. Spectrum Crystals could also draw small amounts of power from objects of the same color. Lloyd used this to his advantage, allowing some of the added energy to spread through his body.

He stepped forward, sword flashing through the air. To the soldiers, he seemed to blur across the room, his sword slicing cleanly through the neck of the man directly in front of him. Like people, objects could also be reinforced by the power of the crystals. Unlike regular swords, the blades used by Protectors were forged with the help of crystals, making them far shaper and sturdier. The added benefit of a personal crystal made the Protector blades nearly indestructible.

The men moved away from him as the first body fell. Lloyd had to give them credit; they reacted faster than he thought they would have. Unfortunately, they were only giving him easier targets. He had seen a team of swordsmen fight in a single, cohesive unit before; that tactic would have been much more useful in battling a Protector.

He turned to his left and made a slashing motion with his left hand. The color of the rug he stood on paled, sapped by his crystal. A red line appeared across one of the men’s chest. He screamed as it burned through him, separating his body in two.

As he had hoped, the men decided it was better to attack him together. Lloyd spun, blade moving to deflect the strikes that descended upon him. He moved like smoke, slipping among their attacks. He made wide, sweeping strokes that incapacitated two men at a time. He sliced through their feeble chain mail, spilling blood and guts onto the floor. He severed limbs as wounded men continued to fight.

He rammed his sword into a kneeling man’s throat and pushed the body off the blade. The body toppled to the side. The men lay in a circle around him. Most were already dead. Three were still alive, but their lifeblood was seeping into the plush carpeting, their vitality slowly ebbing away.