Unnormal Normalcy

Just News and Ramblings From Your Average Author

King of Blades – Prologue

I decided to post this story here, too. Don’t know why, but why not?

Here is the prologue of my GA story, King of Blades.

Dearest Coulta,

You may not remember my face, but my name is Markiel, and I am your father. You may have asked yourself for many years how I could have given you up, but believe me, I did it because I thought it was the best thing I could do for you. I have written you this note to explain things to you that I know I will never have a chance to explain in person.

I spent my boyhood in the farmlands of Berk, until I was noticed by a traveling sorcerer named Alion. I was a minor sorcerer myself, and he took me on as an apprentice. I went to live with him in Mariadok, one of Berk’s many minor cities. I was with him for five years, time enough to master the basics of my abilities.

When I was twenty, he sent me to the village of Cassel to find a young woman named Eline. He said that he had had visions of her, and that she would give birth to his son. Alion was old then, and she would not come back with me to be his woman. I had made a vow to Alion to bring her back to him, but I broke that vow when I fell in love with her.

Alion found us many months later, living with her parents. Eline was in the final days of pregnancy, carrying my child – you. Alion was understandably displeased, and dueled us both. We took his life, but Eline, a very powerful sorceress, knew that you, her unborn child, had been cursed by him.

She told me everything that she could determine from the old man’s magic. It was her belief that, because I had broken a vow to him, you were cursed to be unable to break any vow or agreement made to anyone with power over you. I discovered the truth to this – you were a very obedient child.

Eline, your mother, went into labor that night, and being as powerful as she was, did everything she could to fight Alion’s magic. Just before you were finally born, she told me that someone would save you, that she had found the soul that would have the most power over you. She told me that you would find someone within a city in the country of Phelin, someone who lived in a great castle and who would love you despite your curse, and who would understand you and care for you enough to never make you enter into any agreements that would hurt you.

It took the last of her energy to find this connection and to fit it in to the loophole that exists in every curse. Moments after you were born, she died, having given everything to save you.

I do not know how to explain those markings on your skin, I only know that they are either a sign of your curse, or that they were created by the conflict between Alion’s magic and that of your mother as she fought to find a way to free you. But I can tell you why I brought you to Phelin, and why I left you as I did. I was doing what your mother needed me to do, I was trying to find the city or the castle she had foreseen. I don’t know if I chose the right one, but I know that what is meant to happen will happen. I only pray that I have not caused you more suffering by giving you the chance to be free.

I did not give you up out of hatred, but out of love. I pray that whoever finds this letter on you will keep it for you until you are old enough to understand my words, and have been taught to read them.

-Your Father.



The first time Coulta had read the letter from his father, he had been sitting in his bedroom within the city of Arren, where he worked as an assassin for Lord Varin. He was twenty years old, and had spent years wondering why he could never go against his master’s orders, why his skin was marked by intricate black tracery that he had to use spells to hide, why he had minor magical abilities, and why he had lived his life without a mother or a father.

He took away the magical glamor from his skin and stared at the black-marked hands holding the pages of his father’s letter, not knowing how he was supposed to feel about any of it. The letter explained why his life was the way it was, but it did nothing to help him accept it. At the time, he didn’t know if he could believe what was in the letter – was it even his father who had left it for him? Maybe it was some recent ploy by his master, to give him a false sense of hope. Lord Varin was not beyond playing mind games, and Coulta knew it from experience.

Then, only a few days later, word came that the Grand King was sending someone to speak with Lord Varin about political matters, and Coulta was tasked with doing away with the man. For the first time, Coulta was able to refuse, when he discovered that the man the Grand King had sent was the Crown Prince. Coulta saved the prince’s life, and in return was granted his own. For the first time in his life, Coulta left the city of Arren, the letter from his father the only thing he took besides the clothes on his back and his weapons.

But his choice wasn’t without consequences. Coulta quickly learned that there was more to the conflict between Lord Varin and the Crown than just assassinating the prince and his Royal Guard. The conflict went back generations, and Coulta was soon on the opposite side of a civil war than he had been before, a civil war that ended with the death of a king and the vanquishing of Coulta’s former master.

Looking at the letter now, a year later, Coulta was stunned by the truth told by those words. His black, silver-flecked eyes glanced up and took in the room around him. He was in his royal office, surrounded by books and maps and various magical tools for communicating with his spies all over the country. He was in a very different city now, a very different castle. And he had a very different purpose. He glanced down at his wedding ring, standing out against the black tracery on his skin, glittering gold with four small diamonds set within the band.

An irritating, pulsating noise brought him back to his duties. He sighed, folded the letter, and set it back into the top drawer of his elaborate desk. Then he rose to his feet and made his way to the large purple crystal sitting on a stand across the room. One of his spies needed to speak to him, and he dreaded it. These urgent messages, though uncommon, rarely brought anything but bad news.


December 9, 2011 - Posted by | King of Blades, Writing

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