Swords of the Secret Son

Prologue

"It's time, Dennys," Arwen Larke whispered eagerly, squeezing her twin brother's cold, clammy hand. "We must go. Nobody looks to a leader who's late." She opened the door and walked right out of the palace and into the fields below.

Dennys followed his sister out to the green, open land in front of the palace, where they were to lead separate armies to their deaths. They walked their separate ways; Dennys snuck around to the back of the hill to meet his rebel followers, while Arwen exited the palace to lead her army of loyalists, those who supported the king, whom she despised at heart.

Arwen shouted to the loyalists, "This is it! Elves, men, dwarves, all of you who dedicate your lives to making Whitewood a better place! Today is the day when we will make history! Over that hill, thousands of rebels have assembled to destroy this kingdom." Arwen pulled her long, nearly white hair out of her face, grinning to herself as she thought of the what was about to happen to the troops that trusted her. "We'll go to the right! No, Rehnnyn, that's left. The rebels are setting up a trap for us over there, as they have overheard our plans from a spy."

On the other side of the hill, the other Larke twin was rallying supporters as well. He hollered, "We will make the memory of the old Whitewood only a shadow of what our country can and will be! We will storm Frinrenth, we will win, and we will kill King Ryedaen, and we will and claim the throne for those who are worthy!" The rebels cheered. "The king's soldiers will be coming from both sides. They may have better armor, but we triple them in strength!"

"Onwards!" both siblings hollered from opposite sides of the hill to their separate supporters.

The troops marched into each other, shields raised, swords in hand. Ten bowmen were perched on top of the palace, giving the king's soldiers a great advantage at first, however the archers too were only elves and men. They only had so many angles in which their armor would protect them. The first two loyal archers were shot down within minutes. Despite the magic they wielded, they were only children.

Fallen bodies littered the field, flies already gathered around the scene. The putrid scent of death filled the air as creatures ranging from brownies to unicorns helped in any way they could. At one point, a lone dragon tore down the tip of the palace of Frinrenth, scorching everyone in its path, leaving a trail of smoke and ashes behind. Weapons of the fallen were constantly rotated in a cycle of those who tried to upgrade their weapons and died trying.

Rehnnyn Taeralen, only a young wizard's apprentice, protected his king the only way he knew how-- sacrificing himself for his country. Rehnnyn had uncovered the true personality of Arwen Larke when they courted each other a few years prior. It didn't end well.

Rehnnyn, the young wizard, grabbed a deceased rebel's helmet, the faint smell of blood still traceable, and followed behind Dennys, his sister, and a group of ten or so swordsmen into the palace. The guards at the fronts gates' bodies were already pale, cold, and rotting, making the rebels' attack on the palace of Frinrenth even simpler. The small group of rebels burst through the thick, black ironwood doors with ease, sprinting into the throne room that would soon be splattered in the loyalist's blood.

"Ryedaen! Your time is over! It is my time to rule!" Dennys yelled as he dashed into the chamber, ready to plunge his axe into the king's side like a fork in cake with the king's final defense already passing into another world.

"Larke!" Rehnnyn shouted, pulling the sword out of his hand swiftly and pushed Dennys to the ground as Arwen pulled the string of her bow and let the arrow fly. Despite the force coming from the traitors, Rehnnyn was a wizard. He may have been only an apprentice, but he excelled enough that once, just once, he was able to survive their wrath. He vanished into thin air as he yelled, "Traitor!" right as the tip of the arrow was about to pierce his skin above the heart.

"Thank you for saving me," Dennys gasped. Arwen ignored her brother as she prepared another arrow in her bow, aiming at her brother's neck.

"There can only be one leader, brother. I'll pretend you died an honorable death, at the hand of a wizard. You're welcome," Arwen smiled venomously, letting the arrow fly deep into Dennys between his helmet and chest plate.

"I-you-how-" Dennys stammered, wasting his last few breaths. Blood seeped through the heavy armor as Dennys fell to his knees.

"I will not have my reign threatened by a cockroach like you," Arwen said calmly, stepping towards her dying brother and shoving the arrow deeper in her his heart, finishing the task she had began to protect her power. Even as Dennys' body cooled and his heartbeat slowed to a stop, thick blood continued to leak out of his suit of armor.

"You make me cringe, General Larke," King Ryedaen spat from his throne that he was chained down in. "You are a loathsome, filthy traitor. My people will not stand for this." Ryedaen coughed up a stream of hot, thick blood, as Arwen bashed the side of his temple with the hilt of her gold encrusted sword.

"Get his body out of my new castle! It'll start to rot soon," Arwen spat. The king hung in chains down the marble steps in front of his throne, blood dripping down the side of his bruised skull, his sacred sword flung across the ground, out of reach.

All of the species that had come to fight who had gathered in the battlefield dropped their weapons and stared up at the leader. King Ryedaen, who once ruled with confidence and ease, was now draped in front of what used to be his castle, his homestead, dead. Even his once elegant beard was caked with his own blood.

"My name is Arwen Larke. I am here to free you! I am here to lead you," her shrill voice echoed through the chamber, her blue, piercing eyes staring at each and every leader of the species. "Men! Ogres! Dwarves! Giants! Merpeople! Elves! Fairies! Nymphs! You are among the lucky species to be smart enough to take protection in this country—in Vision. Your king is dead! You will forever be -"

"You are not our leader! King Ryedaen and his just policies will forever rule Whitewood, whether he is here to in person to do it or not. We will not comply to your antics, Arwen." The leader of the nymphs' voice unnaturally decreased three octaves as she uttered those final words, her voice dripping with drama and disgust. She waved her hand, gesturing for her subjects to follow her, as she began to flee into the forest. The nymphs held their swords steadily as their leader announced steadily, "We will never bow down to you."

"Your loss," Queen Arwen said sweetly as she cracked her knuckles. She snapped her fingers and archers from all sides began shooting at the herd of rebellious nymphs. "Any more resistors?"

All were silent except for the pixies, who zoomed off the battlefield so quickly that it was if a gust of wind blew them away.

"I take it you know what's best for you," Arwen sneered. "Now, my people, sign this contract here and you will be free from all troubles in this world."

The leaders of each remaining species tentatively took the feathered quill from their new queen's hand and dipped it into the small jar of ink presented to them with great ceremony. Signing the piece of parchment that would lock them into slavery for the next 500 years, Arwen was the only one who knew what the future would bring.

"Perfect," the new queen whispered to herself. "That was easy."