Eden-South
Authors: Janelle Stalder
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Romance, #Adventure, #action, #Fantasy, #battles, #youngadult
BY JANELLE STALDER
Eden: Book One, Eden Series
Published by Janelle Stalder at
Smashwords
Copyright 2013 Janelle Stalder
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
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To my family and friends,
Thank you for all your love and support. You
mean the world to me.
Jelly
PROLOGUE
The bells in the tower rang through the
silent night. Darkness had crept over the land, as hours passed,
turning the day into night. A crowd of people stood motionless,
filling the courtyard in front of the palace to its limit. No one
spoke, and each pair of eyes was pinned on the balcony that rose
above them. The High Priest had been expected hours ago, yet no one
had come out to speak to them. The crowd grew restless, but no one
dared to leave the spot where they stood. News like this only came
once in a lifetime, and everyone there wanted to remember it
firsthand.
What the townspeople didn’t know was that
the High King still lay in bed, a small amount of breath still
working its way through his lungs. It came out in short gasps, but
he clung to life as best he could, as all who stood there with him
waited for
their
arrival. Speech was almost impossible for
the elderly King. The pending matter was one of such great
importance that he seemed to refuse to waste what little energy he
had left on those who were there.
“Drink some water, my eminence,” said
Arthur, the small priest who had remained beside his bed since the
morning. “Your lips crack from the thirst.” He supported the King,
as a few drops slipped through the thin opening between his lips.
The once great figure that was their King was now merely a shadow
of his former self. “I will go speak with the High Priest and find
out what progress has been made,” he whispered.
Rising from his knees, Arthur walked out of
the room and into the large hall. The marble floors reflected the
flames from the wall sconces that were lit everywhere. The cherubs
that were painted on the high ceilings looked down with pity at the
grief that filled every crevice of the palace. No one stood out
there, except for two soldiers who were stationed beside the doors
to the King’s chamber.
“Have you seen the High Priest?” he asked
one. The fellow just shook his head.
Typical
. He sighed
inwardly. The King’s men wouldn’t speak to anyone except each
other. Arthur always found them quite rude and arrogant, and that
was in no way affected by the fact that he hadn’t been able to get
into the army when he was younger, or so he continually told
himself. The church life had been much more suitable for him, in
any case. Walking briskly down the corridor, Arthur frantically
looked into each room, praying he’d find his master searching for
some solitude from the rest of the palace. Finally, he saw him
staring out of one of the thin windows on the outside wall.
“My lord.” He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Have you heard anything? The High King clings to life, but very
weakly.”
“We are still searching for them,” he
replied, not even turning around to acknowledge Arthur’s arrival.
“I can only pray that it won’t be much longer.”
“I’m not sure how much longer he can wait,”
Arthur pressed.
The High Priest turned around abruptly,
interrupting him before he could continue. “The severity of the
situation is not lost on me, Arthur, I assure you. That being said,
however, I can only do so much. Unless those two numbskulls are
deaf
and
stupid, they will have heard the bells by now and
already be on their way. Just to be sure, though, we have five
units out there searching for them. All we can do is wait, so I
would suggest you do so in
silence
.” He turned back around
and continued to stare out into the black night.
Arthur could feel his face redden, as it
always did when he was chastened by the High Priest.
“Yes, my lord,” he replied quietly, turning
around to reposition himself by the King’s side.
The small man bustled back down the hall,
causing a sigh of relief to escape the High Priest’s lips. Arthur
was a good man, a good priest by all means, but his patience left
something to be desired. He couldn’t help but get annoyed when the
man pressed him like that.
Where are those boys
, he thought
angrily.
Leave it to the crown princes to be missing at a time
like this.
Jameson, he could understand. The boy might be the
eldest, but he was by far the most foolish. Everyone knew he would
rather sit and get drunk with his soldier friends than accept any
responsibility around the palace.
Callum was much more reliable than his elder
brother. The King relied on him heavily around the palace. Although
he was the younger of the two, everyone knew the crown would most
likely be passed to him. It was virtually unheard of to have the
younger sibling crowned before the elder, but Jameson had made it
clear over his years that he had no desire for the crown, and
Callum was clearly the better candidate.
Rain began to fall outside.
Fitting
weather for the mood amongst the people of the Capital
, he
considered thoughtfully. All of Eden would be in mourning come
sunrise. A messenger had been sent to all four areas. The Riders in
the west, the Sand People in the east, the Sun People in the south,
and the cold Mountain People in the north. He didn’t expect to see
any representatives from the north, but they needed to be notified
regardless. Every leader in Eden would realize the threat implied
by the passing of the High King in the central Capital. A new
leader sitting on the throne always created a risky situation. No
one knew what to expect of a new ruler, or where their ideals and
ambitions stood. A weaker man could be susceptible to the negative
influence of those in the north; however, with Callum on the throne
the High Priest had very few reservations. On the other hand, if
Jameson were to sit on the throne, he could almost guarantee the
Capital would slowly imitate the city found in the south, amongst
the Sun People. It was a city filled with sin and desire, things
that would be very enticing to the eldest prince.
Admittedly, what worried him the most was
north of them. There sat a ruler known for his cruelty and lack of
compassion. He was persuasive and ruthless in his recruiting of
allies. It was said that he stood almost seven feet tall and was
twice the width of any normal man. His face was covered by a wild
red beard, and down his back lay a thick, long braid of the same
colour. His men were trained in the mountains and were able to
survive and fight in almost any condition. The King’s men were
known throughout Eden as being the best of the best, even rivalling
the Riders in the west, but the men from the mountains were a force
to be reckoned with. Brutus the Red was his name, and his hand
would undoubtedly reach toward the Capital when he heard the
tidings. The news of their fallen leader would lead others to
believe they were weak.
They didn’t know the prince quite like he
did.
Walking slowly back toward the King’s
chamber, the High Priest wondered what life around the palace would
be like when their beloved leader was gone. The High King was one
in a million, a man of great strength, yet great humility and
compassion. There was not one person who met him who didn’t
immediately take to him. That was what made his men so loyal. It
would now be Callum’s job to continue that level of allegiance
amongst the men when he took over. Without that, the Capital would
surely be as weak and vulnerable as the outsiders would think.
A loud bang resounded through the palace, as
the heavy wooden doors were thrown open. Rushing through them in an
apparent daze of sorrow and fear was the eldest prince. His boots
left puddles on the glistening floor where they landed as he rushed
up the central staircase and toward the chambers of his father. The
High Priest waited for him in the hall.
“Your Highness,” he greeted him solemnly. “I
cannot begin to express my relief at seeing you here.”
The prince’s eyes were wild, his hair soaked
to his head. At the age of twenty-seven, Prince Jameson appeared to
be closer to the age of eighteen. His face was bare of any hair,
and his skin was smooth of any lines. He had dark green eyes and
full lips, both features that made him popular with the palace
ladies. His wavy golden-brown locks were usually worn loosely
around his face, like a halo around an innocent cherub. He was
anything but.
“How is my father?” he asked in a hoarse
voice. The scent of alcohol filled the air when he spoke. It was
clear now why he hadn’t heard the bells sooner. Fighting down his
annoyance with the prince, the High Priest tried to remain
empathetic toward the boy. After all, everyone might be losing a
leader that night, but
he
would be losing a father.
“I’m afraid it doesn’t look good, my lord,”
he replied candidly. “We believe that he only holds on so that he
may see you and Callum before he passes.” His words hit the prince
hard, causing him to brace a hand on the wall.
“I don’t understand,” he said quietly,
shaking his head back and forth. “The doctors all said his heart
was getting better.”
“Your father is in his eighties, my lord,”
he explained. “His life has been long and lived to its fullest, but
we cannot last forever.” His words sounded empty even to his
ears.