Okay this is my first post on protagonize. It's the start of a book that I plan to write. It's pure fantasy. Whispers abound of the rise of the Spider King, a powerful, malevolent being who had risen from out fo nowhere to defeat six of the Holy Seven Kingdoms, only to be defeated at a final battle through trickery by the Seven Old Men, a secret community of wizards entrusted with overseeing that the order of things in the world never be upset by anomalies such as the Spider King. The protagonis
King Dezi tucked little Darom into the bed, then kissed him on the forehead. The bed was a large, four poster bed with sheets of purple silk, much too large for Darom’s six year old frame. He was a frail, pale looking boy with intense black eyes and hair.
“Will you read me a story tonight, father?”
King Dezi laughed, a kind, genial laugh, then stepped over to the wooden bookshelf by the fireplace. A warm fire crackled invitingly in the hearth. On his way back he walked over to the window, which looked out over the vast gardens at the rear of the estate, and drew the curtains to prevent the light of the full moon. The moon, a spotless white disc shining brightly in the sky, receded into the shadows of a cloud.
“What story will you hear today, Little Lord?” he asked affectionately.
“The one about the hero Jugruzzar!”
“Okay, but just one, okay? You must sleep early tonight. You can’t be late for school again tomorrow.”
“Just one, father, I promise!”
“Okay. Once upon a time, in the land of Viginas,….”
Half an hour later, the prince had his eyes shut serenely, his little hands still holding the sheets up to his chin. His father patted his head and turned to walk away.
“Can I ever be like Prince Jugruzzar, daddy?”The prince said with shut eyes, his voice slurring with sleep.
His father laughed again, then turned and said,”Apart from the blue eyes and blonde hair and a scar shaped like a star around his eyes, yes of course son. All it takes to be a hero is courage!”
Darom sighed, smiled in his sleep, then turned over and went to sleep.
Darom's head was spinning. The sky was red, and large flames the size of castles leapt all about him in the air. The sound of wailing and hysterical laughter filled his ears along with the ringing of a distant church bell. The earth seemed to be shaking, but everywhere he looked, all he could see was a red haze obscuring and altering his vision. A high pitched whine was buzzing in his ears, the volume increasing until it was deafening and obscured all his other senses. Darom screamed and woke up with a start.
He was floating six inches above the bed.
Darom screamed again, louder, and landed back on the bed with a thud. He looked around wildly, still screaming. He heard footsteps coming to his room, the guards or his father. And then he looked to the window.
The curtains were drawn wide open.
And outlined in the light of the moon was the silhouette of a large, broad shouldered man in a hooded cloak, the cloak flapping behind him on the wind.
The door opened and Darom turned towards the light of the lamp.
“What is it, son?”
“Over there! By the window! There’s a…”
But the curtains were flapping over empty space.