Chapter 2: Persopolis

-The Father-

Sir Myles of Olau stood on the wall overlooking the desert, observing the speck in the distance that was drawing closer and closer.

This morning the group from Corus had awoken to find that Prince Jonathan and Page Alan had disappeared. Needless to say, they had panicked.

The Bazhir had begun to mutter about the young ones must have gone to the Black City.

The Tortallans didn't mutter; as they were too busy looking for their Prince.

Lord Martin was interrogating the Bazhir guardsmen who had let the Prince and Page pass for a gold coin. While Duke Roger scryed for the missing prince and page.

The speck drew closer, transforming into the distinct shape of a person riding one horse while guiding the other horse, which was rider-less.

The guardsmen beside Myles began to murmur.

"Is that the prince?"

"If it is, then where is the one with the fire-hair?"

As the rider neared the gates, Myles was able to ascertain several details.

One, the rider was indeed Prince Jonathan, who for some unknown reason was currently riding without a tunic, in the sweltering desert heat.

Two, Jonathan's head was bowed and his shoulders were slumped as if he had lost the confidence that he had left Corus with.

Three, Alan wasn't with him, though Moonlight was trailing next to Jonathan who had tied her reigns to his saddle.

"Welcome back Prince Jonathan!" Myles called down, startling the teen below him. "I see you are missing someone, where is Alan?"

Jonathan looked up and Myles took a step back. Gone was the confidence, replaced instead with the eyes of who had lost someone close to them.

The Prince once again lowered his head and led his horse and Moonlight through the gate, into the city.

Myles stood in shock, the prince's message was clear.

Something terrible had occurred within the Black City.

-The Heir-

I led Darkness and Moonlight into Peropolis, making my way toward the stables. I had no doubt that Myles would figure out what had happened, the fact that Alan wasn't here pretty much explained it. That meant one less person I would have to tell.

I could feel the Bazhir staring at me; they had done this when I had entered the city the first time with the other Tortallans. That time I didn't really mind, this time however I did. I wanted them to look somewhere else, anywhere else? Why did they stare with awe in their eye at someone who couldn't even save his own friend?

I dismounted, from outside the stable I could hear thundering footsteps.

"Jon!" Raoul cried as he entered the stable, Gary and the others following him, I noticed that Alex wasn't among them. They all began to speak at once as I fiddled with Darkness's saddle, I had already unsaddled Moonlight.

"There you are!"

"-do you know how worried we were?"

"What happened to your tunic?"

"Hey there Moonlight, where'd Alan go?"

I tensed when I heard that, Darkness fidgeted as I placed a slightly shaking hand on his flank.

"Jon", Gary placed his hand on my shoulder, "Jon where's Alan?"

"He probably went to sleep, you know how cranky he can be –"

"She's dead."

-The Giant-

Jon's whisper silenced them instantaneously. Jon continued to fiddle with Darkness's saddle.

Raoul stepped forward, "what do you mean?"

Jon didn't answer.

"Jon!"

Jon snapped, "Alann-Alan is dead! Alright, sh-he came with me to the Black City and the Ysandir killed he-him!"

-The Rogue-

The tankard of ale dropped from lifeless fingers, as a feeling of dread settled over him.

Something's wrong, thought George Cooper as he rubbed his fingers together, trying to regain feeling.

-The Mage-

He was dreaming, he had to be.

His sister and a man were battling hand-in-hand against ten ancient beings. His sister held a blade with a glowing crystal and was wearing what appeared to be the man's tunic. Why?

Eight of the beings were killed by a modified spell for fire. The last two were a completely different story.

They were able to break the fire spell and were summoning energy when my sister did something odd.

She called out for the Goddess and was told to trust her sword.

She and the male being engaged in swordplay while the man used their combined gifts to fight off the other being.

Then the last two of the beings said something, a Word of Power.

A vortex of sorts was created.

The vortex was sucking in his sister and the man.

They were going to die.

His sister looked at the man, she said something.

And then she let go.

The man's scream was echoed by him as he regained consciousness.

"ALANNA!"

-The Traitor-

Duke Roger of Conté sat in his room sipping a glass of wine. Jonathan should not have returned from the Black City.

But he had. Apparently because of Alan of Trebond's sacrifice.

Roger fingered a chess piece on the board in front of him.

A pawn.

That was Alan was-had been- a Gifted, athletic pawn, one that could be moved around by Roger.

Roger sighed, a good pawn was lost but one that had had potential to become dangerous. After all, it had been Alan of Trebond who had saved Jonathan from the sickness that he had created.

When questioned, Alan claimed that Myles had shown him what to do. And Roger had believed him! And yet when he had reached into the boy's mind, he had felt his magic slide over glass walls and assumed the slipperiness was stupidity or ignorance. He had been a fool!

But no harm was done; after all if Alan had been a threat, he wasn't any longer. After all what harm could a dead man do? (1)


An:

I didn't realize the irony of this statement until after I had finished writing it.

So here is chapter 2, please review and tell me what you think.