Half-Breed (open for editing)
Today, I had a lot of time at home, so I looked at something I started a while ago. So, here's the Prologue. Critique all you want. I'm working on Chapter 1 right now.
Prologue:
487 years ago, two different kinds of elves mated as king and queen for the first time. Their child, Istl, was half Sea Elf and half Cliff Elf.
You see, there were 3 different species, elven, dwarven, and human. Within those species are the clans. There were the Sea Elves and the Volcano Dwarves, who were allies and the Cliff Elves and the Mountain Dwarves, also allied. Each clan had a special power that only their clan had. For the Sea Elves, it was the strength that they had in their legs and arms from swimming all the time in their underwater cities. They could also hold their breath for days on end. Then, their ally’s, the Volcano Dwarves, power was that they were heat impervious and strong. They gained both powers by living and tunneling around their cities inside volcanoes that formed a circle around the Sea Elves biggest city, Sea. Switching to the other side of the map, the Cliff Elves had unnaturally strong hands from climbing up and down the cliffs to travel. They could crush granite stones to fine powder. Their ally’s power was strength. Simple brute strength. The Mountain Dwarves had to tunnel through stone every day and, because of it, they were the clan with the most strength in their citizens. The humans have no special powers, but there is a special sword that is passed down through the male bloodline. It is attracted to its owner. So, the master of the blade can find it if the sword is within a few kilometers at the most.
The political system was quite simple. Each clan would elect a counselor, and those counselors would vote on the king, and then the king would pick his queen. But, in the Sea Elves mind, the counselors should pick the queen, and then let the queen pick her king. There were often arguments about this. But, majority ruled, and the system stayed the same. After the king died, if he had a son, the son would continue on to rule. But, if there was no son, then it would be up to the council to elect another king. The Sea Elves disagreed with this as well, but since they knew that they would just be overruled again, they said nothing.
So, going back to the beginning, Istl fled his duties at the tender age of 17, not quite an adult. There was so much pressure to live up to be like his dad from the Cliff Elves, and so much pressure to grow up like his mom from the Sea Elves. So, he ran away and never looked back. After journeying far and long, Istl finally found a good place to settle. But, when he entered the cave, Istl found something mind boggling. It was the very last dragon egg in existence. Istl didn’t know how to hatch it, so he just left it there and didn’t disturb it for hundreds of years. You see, elves live for 400 or so years. The oldest elf that ever lived was 624. The average life span was approximately 398 years. After Istl ran, no man, elf, or dwarf could ever find him.
Now, to start our story, we need a little background…. For the second time in written history, a Cliff Elf king, named Arbaer, married the love of his life, a Sea Elf named Iones. When the news was announced that the queen was pregnant, the entire community of Cliff Elves and Sea Elves celebrated together. The day that their son was born, everyone rejoiced in having a half-breed that would one day rule the kingdom with an unbiased hand.
Now, we turn to what was happening at that time, all the way on the Sea Side of the map. A young elven maiden named Elshae was born into extreme poverty. But, over the next 12 years, two things happened. First, Elshae rose out of poverty and became one of the queen’s top soldiers. But, along the way, Elshae’s opinion of those who were born higher that her (which was pretty much everyone), mostly royalty, changed into one of disgust. Most, if not all, of the Sea Elves’ important staff were snobbish and rude. Only right that Elshae should think everyone in those positions as such.
Then, we journey around to the Mountains and those who dwell inside. 27 years earlier, a young dwarf named Grendath killed his parents and took their money. His brother, Balafor, watched from the cupboards as the knife slipped between his father’s ribs, but held back tears. After Grendath fled with his inheritance, his younger brother held his mother one last time, for his father had been dead before he hit the stone floor. His mother told Balafor that she knew he would become a fearsome dwarf, but for now, he could stay a little one. As the body fell from his hands, Balafor grew up. That memory would haunt him forever, but right then, he couldn’t stand to stay. He took his mother’s necklace and his father’s battle axe and left home forever. He nested deep inside a mine and never left. But, Balafor swore vengeance on his brother and tried to track him down in every way possible without leaving the mine. You see, Balafor, though he would never tell a soul about this, was scared. He thought that one day Grendath would burst through the wall and try to kill him. He was worried that Grendath would come and kill the rest of his family and any witnesses.
Kendar was living a calm, uninterrupted life, but, since his story is being told in this book, we can guess that it doesn’t stay that way. We would be correct. When Kendar was very young, a man broke into his house. This happened quite a bit out on the plains, but Kendar’s father had the family’s huge, double-handed broadsword to fend off any intruder. But, he was not skilled, nor trained in sword fighting, and the burglar was. Kendar’s family never stood a chance. When it came to a fight, Kendar’s parents were slain, the sword stolen, and he was left with only a name. A name that Kendar would never forget. Cruvak.
Caruvial struggled with the fiery bow. His mentor sighed and turned away. Muttering a few swear words under his breath, Caruvial finally managed to control the fire and, concentrating hard, he moved the flames onto the tip of the arrow and fired. The arrow flew way above the target and struck the professor in the arm. Growling with pain, the angry man grabbed it, snapped the wood in half and dismissed Caruvial. Head down, the wizard trudged out. He could never get anything right. He was just slow. Concentrating, Caruvial raised a pebble and threw it with magic. No one bothered to look at him as he slinked through the busy streets. They were used to the angry magician. Caruvial was an outcast and seemed to always stay that way.
With a snap of her fingers and some “magical” powder sprinkled on a cut, the magical Amida healed a sore on a man’s foot. Amida had fled her town because couldn’t take the ridicule and teasing of her classmates and neighbors. She left in the middle of the night. Now she was a traveling magician. She mysteriously healed wounds. Nobody knew what her trick was. But, it was more than fairy dust and quick fingers. Amida was an honest cleric. Her healing skills were exceptional, but she only used them to heal minor scratches and bruises to make a little bit of money. Amida had no idea how powerful she was, and didn’t want to be told. She was a loner and didn’t like taking advice from others. She had fled the orphanage, where she had lived all her life, at age 6. There hadn’t been any security, so it was relatively easy. Amida now used her powers to scrape by and barely survive on the streets of a small city in the Plains.
All these people will come together. They will form a bond stronger that any seen in this lifetime. But, before we get to that, there’s one more story that must be told. A very important one. It starts 497 years after Istl was born….
