Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins

I first knew that I was awake, not because of any light, but because of the searing pain across my chest. I groaned and found that my throat hurt as well. When I finally dared to open my eyes I realised that I needn't have bothered as I could have seen just as well had I kept them closed.

I groped around with my hands and discovered that I had been dumped on a cold, hard floor somewhere. Not the first time I'd woken up like this; I grant you, but the pain I was suffering was certainly reminiscent of a hang-over. As I grew accustomed to the darkness I began to see the faint outlines of things, and; to my horror, I could make out a series of bars. I'd been thrown into a cell. Well, I hadn't expected it to end like this – to be tossed into a dungeon and left to rot. I'd done nothing wrong, I was a model citizen if anything. The worst crime I'd ever committed was doing thirty three in a thirty zone. Hardly life-sentence worthy.

I pulled in my aching limbs and sat up slowly so I could get my bearings. As I sat up some of the fog lifted and images of the evening's events came flooding back to me. Prince Fofana, Queen Siônel, Juney... how could I have been so stupid? I trusted her implicitly – figured that if anything went wrong that she'd be there to save my sorry ass; and then she turns out to be one of the bad guys.

“Haven't you heard of undercover agents?”

Oh God, why was I so slow? I hugged my knees into my chest, the move made me wince in pain. I sniffled as I felt my eyes grow hot and fill with tears. “I just don't know what's going on anymore.” I whispered to myself, and though I don't know why, I was disappointed not to get an answer. I allowed myself to sob. I didn't even have the comforting weight of Twin-Blade to fall back on. I really was all on my own now.

I don't know how long I was alone in the dark but it was long enough for my tears to stop and for my crying to become a series of stilted, dry sobs. It was as I snuffled quietly to myself that I heard a door creak open down the hall. What followed were a series of quiet footsteps and a whispered voice:

“She must be in here.” Was that-? “I saw them carry her past; she was only unconscious, I think, but she looked in a bad way.” as he spoke I could hear them coming closer Was my mind playing tricks on me?

“You think she'll be okay?” Malcolm?

“Yeah, she's surprisingly tough... for a Newbie... but don't tell her I said that. It'll only go to her head.” Kaylaer!

“I won't tell- if you don't...” I managed to croak. My voice sounded terrible; more coarse than I'd thought it'd be, and it hurt more too.

“Alaina? Over here!” Kaylaer whispered loudly. Before I knew it a light was being shone in my face. “You look like shit.” She stated.

“Considering circumstances... I'll take... as complement.” I rasped – every word feeling as if it were a sword being pulled up through my throat. Kaylaer laughed as I managed a half-hearted smile; she'd never say it but she looked as relieved as I felt. My eyes became attuned to the sudden increase in light and I was able to make out their faces from behind the bars. “How did you-” I started but Malcolm interrupted me excitedly;

“Someone told us where we could find you, a friend; someone we thought was long gone.”

***

At the precise moment that the door was kicked free of it's hinges, Kaylaer and Malcolm scrambled off the bed and onto the floor in an attempt to hide. Kaylaer pulled herself deftly across the worn carpet and sought refuge under the bed. Malcolm had not reacted as quickly so she reached out and pulled him under after her, just as the firm footsteps entered the room. They heard the flimsy door crack and give way beneath heavy boots and lay perfectly still as they listened to the intruder search the place. Kaylaer was very aware of the sound of her own heartbeat thumping in her ears, while beside her Malcolm struggled to control his breathing.

The footsteps stopped.

“I know you are in here.” it was a man's voice; but it was not as threatening as Kaylaer had imagined it would be. In fact, she thought she had heard this voice before. “It would be much easier if you would both just come out.” Kaylaer's mind searched frantically for a memory. It was dark. The smell of stale booze in her face. Large men... and then... she was rescued.. Safe. A soft, comforting voice. Kind, brown eyes... it was him. He saved her. Kaylaer made to shimmy herself out from under the bed. Malcolm grabbed at her ankle.

“Kaylaer! What are you doing!” He whispered loudly.

As her head emerged from under the bed she came face to face with the only man that had ever made her feel safe.

“Ah, there you are now Sparrow.”

Unlike her usual self, Kaylaer found herself to be lost for words.

“Sparrow?” came the muffled voice of Malcolm from under the bed, followed by a thump as he hit his head.

“I just thought that the name suited you, I hope you do not mind.” The memory of him came flooding back all at once; as if he had been a dream that she had forgotten. Malcolm tentatively popped his head out from under the bed; quickly taking in the features of the man that was crouched in front of them. It couldn't be -

“Oh My Mother!” he exclaimed; the two turned to look at him. “It's you.”

'You' quirked an eyebrow; an eyebrow that Kaylaer couldn't help but notice was probably one of the most perfect eyebrows that she had ever seen.

“Prince Alistair!”

Kaylaer's stomach turned into a leaden weight. The Prince Alistair? The man who had killed his own father? He couldn't be. He couldn't have. Not this man.

“I am afraid that it is merely Alistair now young man.” He smiled a sad smile – the kind that reached neither of his eyes; good or bad. “It is a pleasure to formally meet you,” he bowed his head, “ I would greatly appreciate it; however, if you did not shout about it.”

“Of course. Sorry.” Malcolm's voice trailed off into a whisper.

“Now. There is not much time; your friends have been captured. You must come with me.” Malcolm had scrambled to his feet before Alistair had finished. Kaylaer, on the other hand, remained stationary.

“Come on Kaylaer, you heard the man!”

Captured? She could believe it of Alaina and her professor; but with Juney around to protect them. Well, it wasn't likely. “Juney is with them-”

“-I do not like to tell you this but it was she who handed them over.”

Kaylaer felt as if she was going to vomit. She bravely swallowed the bile that was rising in her throat but said nothing. Alistair allowed her a few minutes to absorb the information. After a moment she finally spoke:

“Did you do it?” She asked quietly.

“Excuse me?” Malcolm responded agitatedly. “You heard him; Juney was bad Kaylaer,” he began to babble, “not really surprising given that-”

“Did you. Do it?” She asked again, fixing her gaze on Alistair's good eye. How could she trust a word this man said if he was able to murder his own father?

“No.” was his simple response; but Kaylaer could read a much more sorrowful story in his seemingly unchanged expression. It was proof enough for her.

“Okay then.”

***

I made a barely audible; and rather unladylike croak as a familiar and oh so handsome face approached the bars.

“I do not believe we have been formally introduced. Alistair.” He said and gave me a gentlemanly nod. I felt a swoon coming on. “And I see you still do not have a coat.”

“Right- well we don't really have time to be discussing clothing choices right now.” And the swoony moment was gone. “Out of the way.” Methyn barged forward; I was relieved to see him despite the rude interruption. I managed a smile as I watched his face contort with concentration, but then noticed – to my horror- that he was in a pretty bad way. They must have gotten to him too. Poor guy.

“Just give me... a... moment...” His hands covered the over-sized lock that held the gate closed. I watched with fascination as the solid metal became a cool liquid that trickled between his fingers; dripping uselessly to the floor.

“Cool!” Kaylaer whispered loudly, “Why haven't you taught us that yet?”

“That's pretty advanced stuff.” Malcolm responded in awe.

“Yes don't get too ahead of yourselves, let's work on not accidentally blowing things up first shall we?” Methyn sighed.

“Oh you should have seen it.” Malcolm laughed looking at me, “Sir was in a magically-sealed stone cell,” I nodded pretending I knew what that was, “and instead of removing the key stone Kaylaer only went and blew up the whole bloody wall.”

“Well I got him out didn't I?” She huffed, “Besides I'd like to see you try it.”

“Enough.” Methyn sighed again as he wiped the last of the liquid off of his fingers. “Yes you got me out but don't for a moment think I am beyond giving you both detention.” He was way cooler than I gave him credit for.

With that they lifted open the heavy gate. I helped as much as I could from my side of it, but with my badly bruised ribs it was a struggle just to stand up straight. As if to prove a point I stumbled out into the corridor. I clenched my eyes shut as I felt myself fall – the ground was definitely going to hurt and so I braced myself for impact. What I didn't brace myself for was to be lifted off my feet entirely. I carefully opened one eye. Then I opened the other. Alistair's face was distractingly close to my own. As was his neck,,, and his broad chest... and his muscular arms. In fact – I looked down – I was being held up by those muscular arms. I felt my cheeks burn. Oh my.

“Clumsy arse.” I heard Kaylaer whisper sulkily from somewhere behind me; but pretended that I hadn't.

“We have to go. There is not much time – I have had to play a very dangerous distraction.”

Aww man, even his breath smelled good. I felt weird just thinking it; talk about a dangerous distraction.

Alistair strode manfully forward, showing no sign of putting me down.

“You know she could probably walk.” Shut up Kaylaer.

“Oh I probably could-” I sighed in what I hoped displayed both my braveness and fragility. “but I wouldn't want to slow you down.” I felt Kaylaer's eyes burning the back of my head as we continued on. Little girl's and their crushes.

***

“And so you have emerged at last?” Prince Fofana barely looked up as the door to the throne room creaked open. “And you have brought company.” Across his lap lay Alaina's Twin-Blade, Fofana caressed it lovingly as if it were truly his own.

“My leej, I was tol' to hide the girl-” There was a tense moment of silence before Fofana stood; stowing the blade on the grand chair behind him. He turned-

“NOT FROM ME YOU FOOL!” Before Alox could respond Fofana was in front of him and had smacked him hard across the face. Had anyone else tried that, even thought of trying it, Alox would have decked them as soon as they were within distance.

Stella, who was stood a little way behind him, winced in sympathy. The gag that Alox had so wisely fitted around her mouth did it's job in preventing her from crying out.

“WHAT GOOD IS IT TO HIDE HER FROM ME?!” Fofana turned sharply on his heel and strode back in the direction of his ill-gotten throne.

“Yer messenger.” Alox spluttered, “'e said we'd been found out. It wasn't safe no more-”

“Messenger?” Fofana sneered, “Don't make up stories to cover up your own incompetence you idiot. I never sent a messenger!” With a wave of his hand Fofana had Alox restrained. “No, no one has been privy to the whole plan until now.” He turned, fixing Stella with a sinister smile. “How rude of me. Princess Stella,” he bowed low, “I do not believe we have had the pleasure. I am Prince... King Fofana, and may I be the first to offer my sympathy,” he approached her now but she remained still; just as Alox had instructed her, though she could feel herself beginning to shake. “Yes, my most sincere sympathy... and apologies, for the untimely death of your Father.”

Stella's eyes welled with tears instantly, her gag threatening to choke her, while Fofana laughed openly at her grief.

“Oh no my dear, not yet – but soon. You see, I intend to Rule Glakyrie in it's entirety.” He gestured with his arms as he walked around her; a vulture circling it's prey. “But for this I will require a Bride.” Stella's eyes narrowed in disgust. “No no, not you. Heaven's no! Someone more befitting my station. I shall be taking your beautiful step-mother as my Queen. How could I possibly choose any other; without her none of this would have been possible!”

Stella had not seen or heard her approach, but, there she was. Her step-mother, beside the mad man, her hand resting lovingly on his shoulder. It was all too much; the gag was suffocating her, the ropes that bound her began to burn her skin – suddenly she fainted to the floor. No one made a move to catch her.

“She always was so very unladylike.” Queen Siônel remarked, staring down at her.

“Such a pity,” Fofana sighed as he returned to his throne, “She will miss the best part.”

Alox struggled against the guards as he watched Fofana pick up the Twin-Blade.

“I did so want her to be awake when I killed her.” With that he raised the Twin-Blade above his head. It felt like a lead weight to his thin arms, and suddenly almost reluctant to fall. Fofana shook off the feeling easily and let gravity bring down the blade.

Alox was by no means an honest man, nor a gentle man, nor even a good man; but he was not an evil man. Alox had a heart, and as he saw the Twin-Blade above the innocent young woman – the one who reminded him so much of his own daughter – the one who had thawed him, he knew what he had to do.

Using the last of his strength, Alox made a final push to free himself from the guards and hurled himself between Stella and the Twin-Blade; the fine metal cut through him as easily as one would cut butter.

Fofana sneered at his maimed corpse:

“You would have been next if you'd had only waited your turn.” He wiped the bloodied blades across Alox's yellowed shirt. “Some people have no patience.” The Prince tutted to himself, “and some people have no manners-” he continued without looking up. “You didn't even have the decency to stay locked up for just one night.” he turned round, incensed by Alaina's escape, but a brief look of confusion crossed his face as he recognised Alistair. “Now I must say that this is a surprise. Well well Alistair, you've survived all this time, and by yourself no less. Good for you.”

“Give Stella to us and I shall not kill you.”

“Ha! You want me to simply give her to you? Oh you are just too much! Killing her will finally let me unite Glakyrie - don't you see? It's how it was meant to be!” Fofana clasped his hands together as if he had just revealed to them some fundamental truth. Mental,yes. Fun? Not so much. Alaina reflected inwardly- power really did do strange things to people. “On the other hand... ah yes – I can trade you...”

Alistair narrowed his eyes; he knew better than to trust the mad man in front of them.

“Stella for Alaina; a straight swap. No catch.” He smiled, “The choice is yours.” He was enjoying this far too much; he almost laughed as he watched the faces in front of him shift from looks of determination and anger to confusion and fear. All faces, that was, apart from Alistair's, who's expression remained unchanged. He slowly placed a frightened Alaina onto the ground; being careful not to jolt her battered body.

“Good choice!” Fofana clapped, “Though you must understand that I, we, shall win either way.” he gestured to his Queen. “Without the Oakley girl and her Twin-Blade you shall be defenceless.”

“Then you must understand this: I do not make deals with my enemies.” Alistair charged Fofana knocking him to the ground. As he took a punch to the jaw Fofana released the Twin-Blade from his grasp; leaving it motionless on the floor beside him. Alistair hit him again and again; throwing his full weight onto Fofana. Even after taking a knee to his stomach Alistair did not relinquish his hold.

Seeing that Fofana was out of his depth the Queen quickly ushered the guards forward and it took the full strength of the two burly men to lift Alistair off their King.

Alistair spat in Fofana's face as he was lifted up. Fofana wiped it away with a smile.

“I'm impressed. Such a shame that you didn't put up so much of a fight when I had your father killed.”

Alistair struggled in vain against the strength of his captors; his grief too heavy a burden.

“Now,” Fofana continued, reaching for the Twin-Blade “I shall finish the job. I do like a complete set.” But the Twin-Blade was no longer where he expected it to be. He patted the ground; fumbling for it.

“How about I finish it?” Stella had remained as still as she could whilst she regained consciousness. She listened, and as she did so she wriggled free of her loosely tied ropes. Seeing the Twin-Blade on the floor she snatched at it, hoping against all hope that she possessed at least a tenth of the natural talent her cousin had been blessed with.

Stella swung the blade, but missed her target as Fofana rolled quickly across the floor. Suddenly Stella's head was whipped back as her step-mother; Siônel, pulled hard on her hair.

“Not so fast you little bitch.” with that she punched her hard in the face; Stella flung the Twin-Blade away as she tried to defend herself. Reacting on instinct she clawed at the Queen's face; finally she had a valid reason to hate her and she wasn't about to hold back.

Fofana saw his opportunity and reached for the unguarded weapon but it slid across the floor and out of his reach before he could even touch it – it came to a stop at Alaina's feet.

“I think you should probably hold on to that.” Methyn said giving her a brief smile of encouragement before turning his attention back to Fofana. Methyn focused on Fofana's potential energy and using his own as a key he unlocked the potential for movement; sending Fofana flying across the room like a doll. Attuning himself to the energy, Methyn took control of his limbs as if the Prince were a puppet. Fofana tried in vain to fight but what little knowledge of magic he had couldn't possibly compete with Methyn's long practised skill. Before he knew it he was stamping on his own feet and being forced to punch himself in the face.

“Ha! Stop hitting yourself! stop hitting yourself!” Kaylaer laughed.

“Time for some practice I think.” Methyn turned to his two students, “Have at it-” Kaylaer was a natural; immediately seizing control and tossing Fofana around the room like a rag in the wind. Malcolm, on the other hand; for all his academic confidence, froze whenever he was called to action.

“I-I can't-” His nerves were always getting the better of him.

“You can.” Methyn patted his shoulder, it was a classic case of visualisation difficulty. “How is it you remember all of the things you know?”

“I can see them, almost like the words are written in my head.”

“Well there we go, don't try and picture 'energy', picture words. Everyone writes their own story, when you use magic all you are doing is taking control of the pen.”

“I- I suppose I'll try...”

“You will try; especially if you want to pass your practical class this year.” It was all the encouragement Malcolm needed; he ran over to join Kaylaer. “I'll be grading you!” Methyn called. Malcolm put Kaylaer to shame as he made Fofana's boots burst into flames.

Alaina stood helplessly on the sidelines – what little confidence she's gained in the past few weeks was left in tatters by Juney's betrayal. Her Twin-Blade felt unusually heavy in her hands, reluctant almost; as if it could feel her fear and sadness. She watched the scene unfold before her, everyone fighting bravely; even the children. Why was she so useless?

You're not.

She should have been ready for this -

You are.

She thought of Juney – how she would have encouraged her, helped her to be her best. The pit in her stomach grew. Thoroughly absorbed by her grief Alaina did not notice how her sword began to shake in her hand, nor did she notice how the metal began to heat up. Instead her head was filled with images of Juney- sneaking around; the times that she wouldn't tell her things; and finally her impassive profile as Alaina was restrained my the guards. Suddenly Alaina was angry. Very angry. Angry to the point where she began to shake – where her blood began to boil.

“Enough of this nonsense!” Fofana had broken free of Malcolm and Kaylaer; their magical ability not yet strong enough to hold his will indefinitely. He was back on his plinth now, accompanied by the Queen and they had recaptured Stella; this time it was she who was at knife-point.

“I am going to kill the little brat this time and your party tricks are not about to stop me from doing it!”

“How about my party trick?” Alaina moved forward slowly, Twin-Blade hanging by her side. Every step hurt but her anger drover her forward, She was not going to be anyone’s pawn any longer.

Fofana laughed as she came slowly closer, “And what would that be my dear? You can barely stand, let alone fight me.”

“Alaina stop! Do not do this!” Alistair pleaded with her from where the guards forced him to kneel. “This was not supposed to be your fight!”

“I think you'll find that somebody made it my fight-” she said without turning from Fofana, “ and now, I intend to finish it.”

Pain and anger. It was all that was driving me. I had never felt anything like it before. Until now I had been entirely useless; downtrodden and cast aside. Not anymore. A fire was burning inside me. I had been nothing but a game piece; how could I have not realized it? Not anymore. I positively burned with rage; no idea what it was that finally lit the fire – but it was not about to burn out. Not until I fixed this. Not until someone died...

Slowly, and with purpose, Alaina raised the Twin-Blade, yet the smug look of amusement never left Fofana's face. Anyone who would have touched the Twin-Blade at that point would have flinched at the intense heat of it; it was surely hot enough to scold, but to Alaina it was as if the blade matched her body temperature – as if they were one.

At chest height she gripped the hilt with two hands; one on either side side of the handle and, seemingly without any effort or forethought, pulled the Twin-Blade apart.

She moved quickly after that, her pain numbed by adrenalin. She rushed the plinth before Fofana had a chance to react. Her injuries forgotten she leapt – putting a boot to Fofana's chest she knocked him into the throne. He flew backwards and Stella was released from his grip. Now free, she scampered across the room.

Alaina held one half of the Twin-Blade to Fofana's throat as he writhed uncomfortably in the throne, unable to escape. She stared him down unblinkingly. What a pathetic little man. As she stared she was struck by a disturbing vision; she saw him killing the rightful Queen and her unborn child. The vision was not through her eyes yet somehow she knew it in her heart to be true.

“You disgust me.” she snarled through gritted teeth, “and you-” she growled at Stella's step-mother, “don't you move.” She hadn't needed to look at her to sense that she was going to try and make a break for it. Alaina aimed the other blade at her without looking. “Watch carefully,” Alaina said, her voice dangerously soft, “you'll be next.”

“Don't be so hasty-” Fofana gulped, squirming in his chair, “I'm sure this can all be settled-”

“It already is.” Alaina said without looking away. The fire burning in her belly was nothing like she had ever felt before. “I think it's time we parted you from that pretty little head of yours. Don't you?”

Before Fofana could even comprehend her words Alaina had turned the blade on it's side and sliced it cleanly through his throat. His head made a satisfying thud as it hit the floor.

As suddenly as it started the fire within Alaina subsided and she wobbled on her feet. The disgraced Queen took advantage of her lapse in concentration and vanished before anyone could stop her.

The guards that were restraining Alistair loosened their hold; as if freed from a spell. Seizing his opportunity Alistair rushed to help Alaina.

The last words that she heard before she passed out from the overwhelming rush of pain were spoken in his soft voice-

“It is okay; I have you now.”