Chapter 1

For those who don't want to sign up on wattpad.com, here's chapter 1 on my novel.

Queen of Swords : A Stone Wielder's Legacy Trilogy, Book 1, Chapter 1

Ash Point Forrest, Arbouroth, Azulyria

May 1985

           

            A searing pain slashed across my face, the sensation rapidly spreading like an uncontrollable wild fire consuming everything in its path. I could hardly breathe over the nauseating stench of burning flesh now permeating the air all around me.

It was quick and fierce as a lightning bolt, striking me down in the blink of an eye. There was no time to brace myself, all I could do now was bear with it, and hope that I survived.

            The contentedness I had felt only moments ago as I strung my bow for another day of target practice no longer mattered. Tattered screams echoed throughout Ash Point Forrest with such  ferocity, it was truly remarkable that I had not passed out. My pleas were left unanswered, not that anyone could have helped me anyway. No creature, human or otherwise, could stop what was happening to me.

            Oh, if my grandmother could see me now, she would not be able to contain herself. I could hear it now; her overly insightful pestering would ensue, about how I should have paid more attention to her “cultural education.” Those stories of ancient magic and brave warrior priestesses that I had been so dismissive of, came crashing back.

            So this is what it felt like to become the next Queen of Swords. Yay me. Nothing like a fiery trail of flames upon your face for the sake of honor and duty. It was a concentrated heat, right below both of my eyes where a concentration of meticulous pricks began their purposeful path.

            The sudden shock had been so alarming; I hadn't even realized what was happening until I felt where the pain was coming from. And to be straight with you, I should have been the last person chosen for such a coveted title.

            I was a far cry from your typical Hedarian girl. My average day consisted of picking fights (usually with boys), using unladylike language, and hardly ever listening to my parent's many concerns regarding my wanting to play with wooden swords over learning cross stitch. You name it I probably did it; at least once.

            Proper Hedarian girls were supposed to be demure, never raising their voices, never questioning orders. I was overly independent and quite open with my opinions. If I thought you were wrong, you heard about it. Whether it was ever meant to be an insult or not, my parents would occasionally suggest that perhaps I should

have been born a Fegrusitite. Now those were women with steely tongues and tempers to match. 

They liked to work with their hands, and were expert marksmen. Sounded like a dream come true to me. At least I would have a healthier looking complexion instead of having skin one step away from resembling daisy petals. Unlike tall and willowy Hedarians, Fegrusites had a more golden pallor, and muscles in all the right places. Not in a grotesque or bulky manner, but it was quite obvious they had the brawn to kick your ass if they so desired.

            Abrasive temperament aside, at least for the most part I looked like a sought after Hedarian bride. A flowing veil of teal green tickled my fingers when I walked, swaying back and forth in gentle waves. Beneath finely sculpted brows, a piercing gaze filled with curiosity lingered on every sight and sound. Twin pools of lilac glistened with innocent naivety, yet below the surface, a vivacious and highly astute warrior bided her time until she was once again allowed to reign free.

            Maybe they were right, maybe not. This is who I was. Ivyssa; the budding spitfire with a tenacious personality to match. So there was no going back now. Perhaps my only saving grace from being a complete miscreant was my unwavering thirst for knowledge, especially herbal remedies and such.

            Having those particular skills on hand became quite a useful skill to have, like say, when you are trying to conceal the fact that you split your knuckle while in the process of punching someone. Like I said; very useful indeed. So now, perhaps you understand my guarded skepticism in regards to my being chosen as the next Queen of Swords. But somehow, for some reason, the Goddess Octrisia had chosen me.

            Perhaps I could finally give my parents a reason to be proud of me, instead of filling their lives with constant grief. It was always Ivyssa don't do this, don't do that, or you need to set a better example for your sisters, blah blah blah. The little weeds were almost as bad as I was, except they had the forethought to behave like perfect little angels whenever my parents were around. Even if they ever suspected that my siblings weren't as innocent as they portrayed themselves to be, I doubt that my mom or dad would ever admit to the fact that they couldn't control their own children.

            Fresh tears no longer contained, fell freely from the corners of my eyes. Twin streams of salt trickled down, tracing the curvature of my cheeks. Every drop paused momentarily before cascading to the ground below. As the seconds ticked by it became increasingly imperative that I find shelter and someone, preferably the designated Masculirum, to bear witness to my first ascension.

            To have this task bestowed upon you was a rite thought by some, to be just as sacred as actually becoming Queen. In addition to the physical closeness, a spiritual bond was forged between this individual and the soon to be Queen. And once established, this bond is everlasting, never allowed to be broken. That is, until such a time that the next Queen has been chosen. This is how I will spend the next two hundred years of my life.

            Yes, I did say two hundred years. Now before get your undies in a twist and start accusing me of spinning tales, listen. Living beyond the normal realms of humanity is one aspect that made the Queen of Swords different from everyone else. In a way, she becomes superior. Only symbolically of course.  All lives mattered, and I would never intentionally place myself above any

others.

            Gaining some fancy title did not make my existence more important than another. And you want to know what, if I had been nothing but some selfish little twit, Octrisia would never have given me this honor in the first place.

            Add another century or so to your life span, no big deal right? Well, that would a bit of an exaggeration. In the beginning it may seem like a blessing, but be wary, the inescapable misery of death still lingered in the shadows. It was a burden better left unsaid, yet it couldn't be avoided forever.

            The goddess brought forth life, and when the time came, she called it back to start the cycle anew. I shouldn't fret about it now, wrinkles before the age of twenty would not be a good look for me.          Every Queen of Swords begins her journey at age fifteen as an apprentice of sorts, working and studying alongside the current ruler. Then once the budding new Queen had reached the more mature age of twenty, a second ascension/sealing ceremony was performed.

            This was a ritual that forever bound a new leader with the teacher that had gifted her with the knowledge and skills to keep Azulyria safe from those who would bring chaos. With a transfer of power and the fading of the former Queen into a pile of sparkling dust, that commenced the start of a new reign.

            “Queen” was so formal and snobbish sounding. A more accurate depiction would be a warrior priestess, kindness that knows no bounds, and the moves of a master swordsman. Call it a political mission statement, but it was expected for the new Queen to establish and maintain relationships with her citizens.

As a public servant the pull of attachment was never far behind, it latches onto the heart and digs its claws in deep. Like a worn out toy, there would come a day when it was time to say goodbye. Every sensible ruler knows this, so you cannot let the sadness that you might feel distract you from your duty. There were others that will still need you.

            Periodic trips to all parts of her kingdom become routine; dedicating time to each of the five facets. They mainly served the purpose of allowing the Queen to become updated on everyday life, and any other business that needed to be addressed. Every complaint, grievance, or joyous announcement was handled with poise and compassion until a resolution could be reached.

            A lot could be gained from such interactions, like a new appreciation for a regional delicacy, or something mundane as the way women wore their hair. I will have to remain vigilant at all costs; the well being of the nation would soon be resting upon my shoulders. For those who don't like flowery speech, it means if I screw up, there will be dire consequences. Don't worry about me though; I won't be alone on my journey.