Beginning of the End

[El Ravager]

This is a fanfic I started a while ago, that I've decided to continue. It assumes King's Quest 7 took place while Alexander was on his voyage for the Green Isles, and that Mask of Eternity took place between King's Quest 5 & 6. Comments and criticism are most welcome.

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After a long period of inactivity on this particular project, I've resumed the writing process. I've henceforth updated added to this piece. In addition to writing more (a process in which I am still engaged,) I've updated the prologue. It can be found below, preceding the new material. Thanks for your interest.

[Yonkey]

Wow, nice!  But are you assuming the events of KQ2+ never happened?

Warning: KQ2+ spoiler ahead!













I thought Gervain doesn't exist because he transformed into The Father in KQ2+?

[Oldbushie]

Ooeeeooo!

Very well written!

[El Ravager]

Thank you both, I really appreciate it.

Yonkey: Actually, the event to which you refer is the exact same one that Alexander is refering to in the conversation in question.

[Yonkey]

Ahhh ok, I think I didn't pick up that she was speaking in the past tense.  

[Rosedragon]

I read this story at Sierra online. It's very good, but sort of violent for a king's quest fanfic. Reminds me of something, I need to finish my own fanfictions and stories. I've been having writer's block lately, but this is giving me ideas. Hmm, let me think. I'm also having Alhazared escape and cause trouble.

[Oldbushie]

Release the lawn gnomes!

They'll catch Alhazred faster than you can say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

[El Ravager]

Bushie: I dunno, I can say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious pretty darned fast...

Dragonstar: It is a bit more serious and violent than most King's Quest games (discounting #8), but, then, most of my writing is. Plus, it would be hard to write a King's Quest fanfic with all the silly humor of King's Quest without coming off as overly goofy. Some things work onscreen, but not on paper. And vice-versa.

And, I'm almost done with the next installment. I should post it shortly.

[racx_00]

Very interesting fanfic there , i must admit like Dragonstar said its a bit more violent than other KQ fanfics , but they are blended very well and the violence fits in

[Suomalainen]

Nice work Ravager...keep up the writing.

[El Ravager]

My goodness, it's been a long while since I first posted this. Shameful, really.

At any rate, I've been working more on this in the last few months, and would like to continue. So...here goes.

I've made a few changes to the prologue, so I'll just repost it.

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Trivial Matters

The heavy, oaken throne room doors opened inwardly. The King and Queen sat on their respective thrones. To either side of them, and a little ways back, as if out of respect, stood two of the elite guards, armed to the teeth. Next to the king stood the Genie, his eyes soulless, glittering like some kind of made flame, or a pool of molten magma. An assassin would be completely unable to lay a scratch on the two rulers, and would have to be insane to try.

Heavy footsteps echoed crisply around the throne room as the captain of the guard entered the throne room. He was not exactly a man, neither was he a beast. His features were gentle, yet chiseled in steel, denoting an underlying strength that few would wish to arouse. “You have need of me, my lord?” Alexander smiled. “Come forward, Captain. Guards, Shamir, leave us.” His command carried out, Alexander motioned for the door-watchmen to close them, and then turned his attention toward Saladin.

“I am pleased to see you, Saladin. With all the work you’ve been doing lately, I’m surprised you could spare the time.” The Captain smiled apologetically. “The loss of copious spare time is regrettable, but the work is important. The last four months have been tremendously successful, and the islands are once again functioning in perfect harmony.”

“I know. You’ve done well, Captain Saladin, but I did not summon you here for the sole purpose of commending you on your newfound knack for diplomacy, and your impeccable use of that knack.” Saladin raised an eyebrow. “It's been seven months since the wedding, the Islands are, thanks to your efforts, once again at peace with one another, the ferry is repaired, and all things seem to be running smoothly. I can turn my attention, now, to more trivial, yet still important, matters. Namely, the guard dogs. I have heard some...very disturbing things regarding those that guarded her majesty when she was locked in the tower during Alhazred’s bid for power.”

Saladin nodded. He had suspected something would be done about that as soon as the king learned of the vizier's treachery. Alexander was not one to act out of vengeance, nor hold a grudge, but the castle guard hadn't even treated him like a human being, let alone a visiting noble, when he first came to the land. “Despite Cassima's orders that she be freed, she was deliberately ignored by those guarding her. They claimed to serve the crown, and yet their actions very nearly brought it down.” The King grinned sardonically. “They would’ve, too, were it not for the bothersome interference of a pesky, decadent foreign prince.”

The captain cleared his throat uneasily. “With all due respect, my lord, they were only obeying orders. Alhazred was their commander-” Alexander interrupted Saladin. “No, captain, Cassima was their commander. They may not have known of Abdul's treachery, but their ignorance does not excuse them of their oath to the crown. Need I remind you that Alhazred was only the vizier; Princess Cassima was their princess and liege. Those four guards are relieved of active duty immediately, and released from my service.”

Saladin did not entirely concur with the new king's decision, but it was not his place to argue. “Yes, my lord.” Alexander continued, his voice taking on a strange, indecipherable quality. “And then, Captain, there is the matter of your own behavior during that decadent foreign prince’s attempted rescue of the maiden in distress, and your position in my service.” Saladin did not like the direction this conversation was headed.

“My lord, have I permission to speak frankly?” Alexander nodded. “Of course.” “While it was not my place to question her majesty’s orders, I was not the recipient of the demands the she be freed. With the king and queen dead, the next down in the chain of command was the traitor, Alhazred.” His contempt for the corrupt politician was unmistakable as he very nearly growled the name ‘Alhazred.’ “And besides, from my point of view, you were little more than a jilted lover determined to swoop to the Princess’ rescue in the grand tradition of storybook heroes, riding upon delusions of grandeur. My orders were simply and unmistakable. I had no choice.”  Alexander smiled.

“And for that I cannot blame or punish you, Saladin, but think back, if you will, to a specific…incident. You proved a little too wary for me during my invasion of the palace. You captured me, and allowed me but a few moments to explain myself before you killed me. I remind you that I had committed no crime against this kingdom.”

“King Alexander, I protest. I was wrong, yes, deceived even, but I was still only following-” Alexander interrupted again.

“Following orders, captain? You confessed to me then that you'd had doubts about the vizier. Your intuition is a powerful tool, Saladin, and not one to be tossed aside lightly. The correct choice to make was simple: you ought to have gone to the princess immediately, not Abdul. In addition, the fact that you would even consider executing the sole prince of a powerful kingdom with little more than the order of your superior, a man who was only your superior due to circumstantial ‘accidents,’ is quite disturbing. Despite your efficiency, word would have reached Daventry. Had King Caliphim not stilled your hand, Daventry would've let an attack on Green Isles, this weakened kingdom would have fallen like ripe wheat before the peasant’s sickle, and the hammer would come crashing down on the men, women, and children of the Green Isles. Actions that would generate results of such magnitude cannot go unnoted, and I will have to take action of some sort. Have you anything to say, in your own defense or otherwise, Captain Saladin?”

Saladin bowed his head. He had no valid argument; his action had been both dishonorable and dangerous. “If you would have me leave the service, my lord, I will do so gladly.”

It seemed like a long while before Alexander spoke again. “Admirable, Captain. Exactly what I would’ve said were I in your position.” The king smiled. “However, despite the sheer stupidity of attempting to execute the heir of a major military power, an action that, I guarantee, would've brought about war, your action showed obedience to your crown, courage, and even honor, as your perceptions were skewed by lies and half-truths. You were fulfilling your oath to the crown, deceived though you were, and that is commendable. No, Saladin, I would not have you resign. A captain who will risk war and disgrace upon his own name to obey his commander, setting aside all personal feelings and carrying out hid or her bidding despite obvious indications to the terrible consequences, is a captain who is sorely needed. I would have you kneel, Saladin.”

Baffled and confused by the king’s seemingly paradoxical statements, Saladin did as he was told. Alexander stood, and drew his sword from his scabbard. “Captain Saladin of the Isle of the Crown, apple-jewel of the Land of the Green Isles, are you willing to swear an oath of chastity, charity and valor? To defend the weak, uphold the poor, and act with honor towards man and beast alike?” Saladin raised an eyebrow. “M-my liege?”

Alexander grinned down at the bewildered officer. “Just answer the questions, Captain Saladin.” His voice caught in his throat. “Yes, of course.”  â€œIn that case, the King, Queen, and populace of the Land of the Green Isles offer to you the cup of First Knight. Will you accept this responsibility?” A close look would reveal tears resting atop Saladin’s lower eyelids as his jaw clenched, yet the guarded emotion only furthered the solemn image of courage and honor that that scene in the throne room seemed to depict so well.

In an unbroken, iron-clad voice, he replied. “Yes, my lord. I accept this responsibility.” Alexander raised his sword in a military salute. “Then, in the name of the Crown, I confer on you the title of First Knight. Keep to your oath, and to not waver from the path of honor. Arise, Sir Saladin, First Knight of the Crown.”

Saladin stood. “You have my humblest thanks, and my loyalty forever, my lord.”

The king clapped him on the shoulder. “You have earned this position a dozen times over, my friend. Your thanks are not necessary, but your loyalty I do require and I know that you, Saladin, will not disappoint or fail me. Now, I would go and make the necessary security arrangements if I were you. The trial is only in a few hours, and we cannot allow our prisoner to cause any more trouble for this land than he already has. You are dismissed for now, Sir Saladin.”

The Trial of Vizier Alhazred

The trial was held in a large, round room, made of turquoise colored brick and marble. The Queen, Cassima, and lords of the other Isles sat on thrones set upon a raised platform in front of the Green Isles coat of arms. All around the room, like an amphitheatre, was the observation booth where nearly the whole public of the Green Isles sat.
Alhazred stood on a raised platform in the center of the room. He would be convicted, he knew. There was no hope, and no escape; Saladin and the other guard dogs were muscle enough, and now that his genie was in Alexander's possession, he had no ace in the hole.

“Abdul Alhazred,” Alexander said, “you have been accused of the heinous crimes of treason against the land of the green isles, murder and attempted murder, theft, vandalism, Conspiracy against the crown, conspiracy against the isles of Wonder, the Sacred Mountain, the mists, and the Beast, kidnapping, wrongful abuse of authority, and attempted usurpation of the crown of the Land of the Green Isles.”

Alhazred scowled. “You have no proof. These accusations are baseless.” A chuckle went up from the observers. “No, Abdul, I have all the proof, and all the witnesses, I need.

“My witness to your treason is the Genie Shamir Shamazzul. My witness to the crime of murder is the Queen Mother and former King, Alaria and Caliphim. My witness to the attempted murder of the present king of the Green Isles is the First Knight Saladin. As for proof of your plans to murder the Queen, this will prove sufficient.” Alexander took into his hand the letter Abdul had written to the wizard Shadrak, and threw it at the former vizier's feet. Alhazred was silent.

“Furthermore, my witnesses to your crime of theft and conspiracy against the Green Isles are the rulers of each individual Island. For witness to your indirect crime of vandalism, I have the ferry-man of this Island. Lastly, Queen Cassima is my witness to your crimes of kidnapping, and attempted usurpation of the crown. Have you anything to say in your defense?” Alhazred was, again, silent.

“Very well. For the crime of grand theft, you have been found guilty, and have earned forty years of imprisonment. For attempted usurpation and conspiracy, you have earned an additional fifty years. For vandalism, you have been found guilty, and have earned twenty more years of imprisonment.

“However, for the crimes of treason, the murder of King Calaphim and Queen Alaria, and the attempted murder of our beloved Queen Cassima, you have been found guilty. You have forfeited your life four times over. Justice would see you sufficiently tortured, but I will show you mercy, and merely take your life for the lives you tried to take from me, and my kingdom. I have pronounced sentence, and justice will be fulfilled.”

Alhazred's silence ended. He shrieked curses at Alexander, and at the Land of the Green Isles. “I would've killed you! This pathetic, insignificant kingdom will fall despite my sentence, the brotherhood will see to that. It's a pity Mordak didn't feed you to Manannan!”

Alexander shouted over Alhazred, “You should've killed me when you still had the chance! Now, you are convicted, and cannot be forgiven. Get out of my sight!”

“You little b******! It will be your mother and father to die first! Vengeance will be made for me! Your precious bride, your sister, Daventry… they will all be crushed like maggots!”

Alexander backhanded Abdul full in the face. “Saladin! Remove this traitor from my courts. Do it painfully.” Saladin grinned wolfishly. He still harbored a deep hatred toward Abdul for his crimes against the family of the crown. “It will be my pleasure, my Lord.”

Saladin slugged Alhazred with his steel gauntlet full in the solar plexus, dropping the former vizier. He grabbed him by the collar, and hefted him into the air. It was then, in his moment of victory, when the bitterness of Abdul’s reply refused to mix with his joy at sentencing the man that tried to murder his wife, that movement caught Alexander's eye.

The bishop and Rook from the Isle of Wonders sat at the end of the front, left bench, the perfect spot for a would-be rescuer to observe the trial, as they were but yards away from the traitor, and right next to the aisle.

A pungent stench of smoke filled the chamber as their false guises melted away, revealing, in their place, two old men in black cloaks. The younger made a motion with his hand, and sent Saladin flying into the wall. With amazing speed, they raced toward Abdul Alhazred.

Alexander drew his sword. “Shamir Shamazzul, get in here!” Shamir materialized just as the two men, grabbed Abdul and vanished in another puff of putrid green smoke. Countless guard dogs poured into the trial room, weapons drawn, and Saladin ran from the room, determined to find the rescuers. All was silent. Time passed, the tension in that chamber so thick you could almost breathe it. The silence seemed as loud as the roar of a waterfall, though you could’ve heard a pen drop. Then, suddenly, without any obvious cause, the tense silence was shattered as one of the guard dogs fell to the floor dead, followed soon after by another.

And another.

“Shamir!” “Magic, master. They're using some form of black magic to-” By this time, two more guards had joined the others in death. “I know they're using magic, stop them!” Shamir summoned forth a protective barrier around the room that shimmered and glistened. It would’ve been beautiful, had the danger not been so real, so deadly and threatening. All present waited, wondering if they would strike again, or if they even could...

***

“I assume you were unsuccessful in following the rescuers?” Saladin shook his head. “I'm sorry, my lord, they were no where in sight.” A few hours had passed since the catastrophe. The civilians were sent home, shaken and frightened, and extra guards posted. Alexander had been, and still was for that matter, absolutely furious. The vizier was dangerous, and with the help of dark wizards, the chances were good that he’d be able to carry out that vengeance he’d about which he’d ranted at the trial.

“I feel I can trust you, Saladin. Did you hear what he said about the brotherhood?” Saladin nodded. “I believe I know exactly to which brotherhood he was referring.” Saladin raised an eyebrow. “Yes, my liege? And...to what brotherhood was he referring?”

Alexander sat down. “A long, long time ago, Saladin, one year after my father became king of Daventry, he traveled to the land of Kolyma, where he rescued my mother from a witch called Hagatha. Both Hagatha and the Count of Kolyma were members of a secret organization of wizards. Their leader posed as Daventry's minister of defense, but was accidentally ratted out by Hagatha. Over the years, I have learned that the name of this brotherhood is the Black Cloak Society. In a letter Abdul wrote to Shadrak, another member of this brotherhood, he referenced this Black Cloak Society. That, I believe, is what our dear Alhazred was speaking of today.”

Saladin nodded. “Then this Black Cloak society…it is a force to be reckoned with. We must be cautious.” Alexander was silent for a few minutes. When he did speak, it was with a tone of utmost confidence. “Saladin, I'm charging you with this mission. Any of the other guard dogs could easily be Black Cloak members in disguise.

“What of your own security, King Alexander? Who can you trust?” “I can trust only myself and the Queen. As for security, I have a genie.” Alexander smiled. “I know you have little to operate on, but I will summon you if I have any pertinent information. Perhaps you could find clues around the Islands.” “At once, my liege.”

After Saladin had left, Alexander thought deep on the issue at hand. He didn't know of anyone with any information on the Black Cloak Society. Except...perhaps... “Shamir? I require your assistance.”

***

First Rosella, then Alexander. Connor would make a good king, but it just wasn't the same. Besides, with the Champion Eternal tied up restoring an ancient order of knights, it wasn’t exactly a certainty that he’d be free to reign as king anyway. Graham had always known, of course, that neither of his children would rule Daventry, but the cold reality hadn't really sunk in until now.

[El Ravager]

As he sat and pondered on these things, of the prophecy made about his children years ago and the state of his family, a strange noise filled the throne room. It was not unfamiliar to Graham, who looked up, and saw exactly what he expected to see. The magic mirror was glowing a brilliant blue color. He stood, and approached it.

What the mirror revealed was the last thing he expected to see. Under its polished surface stood his son, Alexander, pale, and frantic.

“Alexander? What's wrong?” His son didn't even greet him. “Father! Is mother there? Is she all right?”

“Ah...I think so.” He turned away from the mirror. “Valenice? Could you come in here?” He turned his attention back to his son. “What happened, Alex? What's wrong?”

A second later, Valenice rushed into the throne room, and caught sight of the mirror. “Alexander? What on earth?” Alexander looked relieved to see her, but still somehow uneasy. Something was weighing heavily on his mind, that much was certain. “Today was Abdul Alhazred's trial.” Graham nodded. “And things didn't go well, I take it?”

“It was a disaster. I had to order him physically removed from the court. Just as he was being carried out to be executed, he was…rescued.” “Damn. Men like Abdul Alhazred never seem to stay imprisoned for long. Do you know who the rescuers were?”

“Yes.” Alexander shook his head. “Or, I believe I do. They were members of a brotherhood. A certain society.” Graham's eyes narrowed. “You don't mean...” Alexander nodded. “The Black Cloak society, if my intuition serves me. He threatened me directly, Father. He swore that the brotherhood would ensure my kingdom falls, and that my mother and father would be the first to, well, you figure it out.”

Valenice' face went white. “They were disguised as citizens of my realm, father. Do you recall what you told me of minister Gervain? I don't think we can trust anyone.” Graham scowled. “What can we do then?” “I think you and mother should come here. Shamir will be able to protect us. I have my First Knight working on finding them, but until then, we're all in danger.

“All right, we'll come immediately. I'll bring some of my elite guards.” Alex shook his head. “No, father, we don't know who is an ally, and who is a foe, not under the present circumstances. I can have Shamir teleport you here, if you wish.”

Graham nodded. “Go ahead, then, son. We'll be there...shortly, I suppose. Give us an hour to put the castle in order, or at least as well as we possibly can. I’ll see you soon.”

A little over an hour later, the King and Queen vanished, leaving behind their castle, and their kingdom. Just a few seconds after that, the mirror, again, began glowing, and displayed brutal images, cold images. Images of havoc in Etheria, but no one was there to see it.

Chapter I

“Truth, light, and order- the Champion Eternal is sworn to protect these things. Chastity, Purity, Righteousness; his way of life. Valor, Faithfulness, Longsuffering; his daily agenda. His life is not easy, nor is it vain and frivolous: the life of the Champion Eternal is a rewarding one, filled with abundance of blessings and an overflow of goodwill. He will face darkness, and he will emerge triumphant. The Mask of Eternity is irrelevant and temporary; Truth, light, and order…these things are forever.” â€"from the writings of Faallinor the Archmage, 300 A.E.

The Realm of the Sun. It was a magnificent place, especially after the taint of darkness had been removed, and the Mask restored to its sanctuary. The walls seemed to glow, as if infused with a living fire, projecting a gentle, life-giving light that soothed the soul and healed the body. It was a place where time seemed to have stopped, a holy sanctorum that was ever protected from darkness.

   Connor of Daventry breathed in the sweet fragrance which permeated the air. In Paradise Lost, life originated, and from the Realm of the Sun, life was granted protection. Those two places, more than any other in the known world, were supernaturally wholesome, rejuvenating the mind, soul, and body in a way no arcane magic ever could. They were divine, and they were home to the Champion Eternal, formerly a mere peasant of Daventry.

   Thinking back, he had been incredibly naïve back in the days when he alone carried the weight of mankind. So prideful, so arrogant…so hopelessly ignorant. Connor had learned so much in his time in the holy sanctuary, and yet his knowledge was seemingly insignificant when compared to the crusaders of light that had preceded him. It was a wonder the living world had survived, to depend upon one such as Connor. On the other hand, were it not for the disaster that had struck, his newfound wisdom would have never been bestowed upon him, and the order of the sun, which had only just recently been remade, would still be an ancient one, a dead, broken one, an order which was only spoken of in ancient tomes and yellowed pages. Good had come from evil, light from darkness…such was the way the universe operated.

   The door to his private chambers swung open, and a knight dressed in brilliant silver armor entered, drew his sword, and kneeled. “From the ashes of chaos and disorder arises a new hope for the light. I greet thee, Lord Connor.”

   Connor smiled. “Peace and Truth, Sir Tyran. Arise. It is unusual that you come to me this early in the day, and I can already read the anxiety in your face, my friend. Tell me, what troubles you?”

   Tyran stood, a slight frown etched in his face. “My lord, ill tidings have I seen. Across the world, tragedy strikes. It is most troublesome, my liege, for the evil circumstances which I have witnessed occurred nearly simultaneously. I fear some dark identity arises now, threatening all that we fight for.”

   Connor smiled. “It is good that you are on guard, ever vigilant, Sir Tyran, but do not allow your mind to be clouded with uncertainty and a myriad of doubts, they will only lead you into chaos.”
   Tyran nodded. “Of course, my liege. Forgive me, but the solemnity of this matter weighs heavily upon my will. This is no ordinary outbreak of evil; there is something lopsided with the universe this day. I felt it even as I walked the earth, a foul presence which threatened to overtake me. I could taste it, smell it in the air. I fear the worst, Lord Champion Eternal, for the order, and all of mankind.”

   Connor’s expression turned to one of cautious concern. Tyran was so melodramatic and innocent. It reminded Connor of himself, when he was younger. “Take care not to make problems larger than they are, Sir Tyran; there are enough troubling problems in this world as is; still, I sense something as well. We should be safe here, however, for the time being. Rally the rest of the order, this is something we must-” He was cut off as the stench of death filled the chamber, and the light of the walls flickered, and died.

   A thin, sickly silence filled the room, and a foreboding sense of evil imposed itself upon the two knights’ minds.

   â€œNo,” Connor whispered into the darkness. “This is not right. Something is terribly wrong.” A sharp schliiing reverberated throughout the room as he drew his sword.

   â€œThis place is divine, no such intrusion of evil could take place unless something of a cataclysmic scale were about to take place. Be on your guard, Sir Tyran, and accompany me to the sanctuary. I fear the safety of this haven has been compromised.”
   â€œYes, I concur, my liege.”

***

   When they arrived at the top of the massive floating structure, the first sight that met them was the natural light of the Mask of Eternity sitting atop its pedestal. The light was dying. As it finally flickered and died, a crack appeared down the pedestal, and, correspondingly, down the golden mask. Time seemed to stand still as the sacred object under which the order of the sun carried out their duties and followed their ideals slowly disintegrated into nothingness.

   â€œNo. No!” Even as the words left Connor’s mouth, the fortress of the sun rocked violently, and an all-too-familiar foul tempest swept by, catching the two knights in its dread wake, and flinging them into the sky. They seemed to fly through the air forever, until, finally, they found themselves falling toward the ground, which rushed up at alarming speed. Praying to the light for a bit of strength and resolve, they braced themselves before they hit the ground, and fell into blackness.

***

   Peace. It is a paradox, of sorts. So frail, so fragile, yet so incredibly strong and able to defeat the most horrendous of fears. It could stand unwavering a thousand centuries, yet break into a million pieces at a single act of aggression.
   In Etheria, the majestic city which was usually the picture of serenity, peace was as immaterial as the most unbelievable myth. Chaos and disorder ravaged the ancient stone pillars, tore apart pathways made of cloud, pathways which were forged by the gods eons before.

[El Ravager]

Turquoise stone crumbled, and cheerful fairies, dancing and making music, were struck dead in a single flash of horror. A grey cloud passed over the sun, and an abnormally dark shadow settled over the ancient kingdom. Chaos, it seemed, had been inevitable since the horrific events of the last month. First, the pathway between Etheria and the Fates was mysteriously destroyed, and the toddler Malecia had vanished without a trace. Two attempts were made to assassinate Queen Rosella, and, even as the second assassin was hunted down by royal Etherian guards, another assassin team infiltrated a separate part of the palace undetected, and slit the throats of King-father Oberon, and Queen-mother Titania. Now, finally, the streak of grievous catastrophes reached their culmination, as the forces of nature sought to tear apart the ancient kingdom.

   The palace shook violently, hurling Rosella from her bed. She coughed once, shook her head to clear it, and glanced up to see her husband already dressed. “What’s going on?” she asked, hurriedly throwing on some clothes.
   Edgar’s face was grim. “I don’t yet know. Something foul, I can assure you of that. A storm, it seems, but much more than a natural storm. It seeks to destroy this place.” He paused a moment, his eyes fixing on the queen. “Forgive me, I took no notice of you. Are you all right?”

   Rosella nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’ll leave a bruise but nothing serious. How bad is the storm? Are we going to-” The palace quaked once more, sending Rosella hurtling backwards. Edgar caught her in his arms.
   â€œWe must leave this place, my love. If we tarry, we could be seriously injured.” Rosella eyed the furniture which the last quake had strewn across the room, her expression sardonic. “Yeah, I see your point. Do we need to take anything?”
   Edgar sheathed his sword. “Nothing more, anything else would only slow us down. Quickly, if we can make it to the air-bridges, we should be all right.” He grabbed her hand, and raced out the door, and through the castle.

   The place was a disaster. Suits of armor, chairs, tables, chandeliers, ornamental weapons, portraits, and a plethora of assorted items were scattered about the place. Even worse, several men had been struck by flying objects, and lay on the floor unconscious, or perhaps dead, it was impossible to tell in the confusion. Rosella ran straight towards one of the unconscious soldiers.
   
      “Edgar, we have to help him!”
   The king pulled her away. “No! There isn’t any time, we have to get you away from here. That is my top priority.” As if to accent his statement, a chandelier fell from the ceiling, crashing onto an overturned table. Rosella allowed Edgar to pull her away, still partially in a state of shock.

   They sprinted down stone walkways, dodging falling debris. The winds were fluttering through the air agitated, in a complete state of disarray, which only served to hamper the king and queen’s progress. Twice, Rosella nearly toppled over the edge, and would’ve had it not been for Edgar’s vice-like grip on her forearm. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of running, they made it to the air-bridges.

   They were absolutely beautiful, dozens of rainbows stretching downwards in a wide arc towards the earth. However, there was no time to stop and admire their beauty as the two usually did. Edgar raced toward the nearest one, and helped Rosella onto it. As she sat comfortable on the cushion of air and began sliding down, the stone plateau on which Edgar stood quaked once again, throwing him backwards just as the stone steps connecting the plateau to the air-bridge crumbled. Rosella looked back, her eyes filled with fear.
   â€œEdgar!”

   â€œRosella, no!” Their eyes locked momentarily before the queen was gone, safely down the rainbow air-bridge. The shock and despair of losing contact with his beloved seized Edgar for the briefest of moments, before it was shattered by the booming sound of falling rocks. He look skyward, and saw dozens of flaming stones falling right for him. Reason abandoned him, and sheer determination and survival instinct took over. Without even thinking, he whirled around and leapt off the plateau and onto another air-bridge right as a stone slammed into the area he’d just vacated. The rainbow bridge carried him downwards to safety, away from his doomed kingdom, Etheria.

***

   The Champion eternal was unaccustomed to the irritations that have become all too familiar to those living on earth’s surface, so long had he dwelt in the peaceful sanctuary in the Realm of the Sun. When this fact is taken into consideration, the irony becomes evident in his awakening. The very first sound he heard after the horrible events in the sanctuary was a falsetto voice, a voice so innocent and naïve that it would move even the calmest of men to anger.

   â€œOoooh, look! That one is waking up! Is he going to be all right?” ‘All right’ was so peace-shatteringly shrill that it caused Connor to bolt upright, clenching his fist. He immediately wished he hadn’t as a wracking pain played a number in his head. He felt an old, weathered hand on his shoulder, easing him back down onto the ground. A gentle voice, starkly contrasting the irritating voice he’d heard only moments earlier, addressed him.
   â€œCareful, son. Don’t try to move too quickly; it looks as though you’ve had quite a day.” Connor glanced over at Tyran, who was lying in a heap a few yards away. “Oh, don’t worry yourself, I think he’ll be just fine, though he did sustain a more serious injury than yourself. I suspect he’ll need to do some recuperating.”

   Connor looked up, shielding his eyes against the sun’s bright glare. The man who stood over him was indeed old, as he’d imagined. He was plainly dressed in a simple black cloak, and grasped a gnarled staff. On his nose sat a pair of spectacles. His hair was long and white, as was his bushy beard. Had his face not been so strong and wise, he may’ve appeared extremely comical.

   â€œWho-” The man cut him off.
   â€œNo, no, introductions can wait. My name is not of great importance at the moment, nor would learning yours benefit me greatly. Not now, leastwise. It is of utmost importance that we get you and your injured friend back to my house, where we can talk in private, and see if there’s anything to be done about his scrapes and bangs. Are you able to stand?


   Ten minutes later, Connor sat in a plush easy chair facing the old man who found him, sipping a cup of hot tea. They had placed Tyran, who was barely conscious, in a back room to rest up while they conversed.
   â€œAnd now, I think, introductions are in order. My name is Crispin, and you seem to have found your way to Serenia. You don’t look like you’re from around here; few go traipsing around the forest in plate mail armor.”
   Connor smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Cripsin. I am Connor, and my associate is called Sir Tyran. On his behalf, and mine, I’d like to thank you for finding us, and taking us in.” He looked around the small, cozy house, a look of bewilderment on his face. “Perhaps I was merely delusional, but I could’ve sworn I’d heard another voice before…”

   Crispin smiled, and pointed to a small owl perched on the windowsill. “Your ears were probably graced by the voice of my companion, Cedric.” The owl, who was quite an amusing sight indeed with his monocle, vest, and coat, perked up at this. “Hoo, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Connor!” Connor’s hand immediately went to his head, and Crispin made a motion toward the talking bird. “Not now, Cedric; I’m not so sure Connor here appreciates your enthusiasm. Why don’t you go into the bedroom and check on Sir Tyran?” Cedric, looking dejected and a little crestfallen, flew off to obey his employer.

The elderly gentleman smiled. “I’m sorry; Cedric can be more than a little overbearing at times, especially when one has a pounding headache.” A few moments passed by in silence as Connor nodded his gratitude, after which Crispin stoked his beard. “You know, I don’t believe you ever told me where you came from, Connor.”
“Daventry.”

A funny look of comprehension and wonder came over Crispin’s face. “Ah, yes, I am familiar with that region. You know, it’s really a little curious. I found you and Tyran lying in the middle of an open road, with no trees nearby. You were both lying facedown, and appeared to have impacted the ground. An attentive observer would think you must have fallen from the sky.”
Connor again nodded. “Yes, what’s so curious about that?”
Crispin’s eyebrows rose. “Well, it’s just that the last citizen of Daventry who dropped in on me also fell from the sky.”
“The last citizen of Daventry? Who…?”

Crispin was silent for a moment, before rising from his chair. “Well, it won’t do to just sit around trading anecdotes while your friend lies in my bedroom with a fractured arm, will it? Come, let’s see if there’s anything we can do for him.”

[Rosedragon]

This is an excelent story, I can tell you've worked hard on it. It looks like the king's quest world is headed for disaster, is this the end?  I certaintly hope not!  I need to work some more on my own fafiction. Keep up the good job, I'm sure your story will come out fine. It's very action-packed.

[El Ravager]

  Thank you, Rosedragon.

I've got the next few chapters written, and chapter II is edited, formatted, and ready to be uploaded. Unfortuantely, I've had a total computer crash. I'm working to rectify the situation, and expect to be up and running again in a few days. I'll upload Chapter II, then, as soon as possible.

[Rosedragon]

I just hate it when computers crash. I'm working on my own fanfiction. I've decided to rewrite my Daventry's Children story. After I finish with that I will write it's sequel, Daventry's Grandchildren.  

I'm also working on my Morena's Tale, I've decided it makes a better title than the Secret Heroine of Daventry, after all Morena is not from Daventry, she's from Kolyma.
Morena will play an important part in Daventry's Children.