Ello, this is Maddy. I am invading this blog for uno posto, so I'll be gone after this. Probably.
Anyway, Mom has been blogging about my video (Which I'm SOO GLAD how it came out) and keeps saying "I NEED TO GET THE EXCERPT!'
Well, she didn't say it in capitals, but whatever. ;)
So here is part of my story. I haven't worked on it in a while, so this is all you're gonna get for now. ;) Enjoy!
Half Taken (Excerpt)
In the kingdom of Manastar, a young boy of thirteen ran quickly though the hallways. He burst through a doorway and skidded to a halt. “Father! I-“
“Patience, my young son.” A man stood at the window, gazing sorrowfully at the sea. He was a little over thirty, bud gray had already appeared in his black hair, more salt than pepper. After waiting a moment, he gave a small sigh and turned to his son. “What is it, Raxka?”
Raxka brushed a white lock out of his face. His hair always got in the way, especially the black bang. “Well, last night I had a dream.”
“Oh?” The other man raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you say so at breakfast?”
“I just remembered it right now, and it’s really strange.” Raxka said quietly. “I was walking along the ocean shore, and I saw a boy like me. I would of said that we were twins, but his hair was flipped. It was black one white part. I tried to talk to him, but he just stood there. Then he swung his axe at me and I woke up.” Raxka waited for a reaction.
His father turned back to the window. “Probably just a strange dream. Go back to your studies.”
Raxka nodded and left, another man walked in, hurriedly closing the door behind him. “King Rangbur.” He gave an impatient bow to the man at the window.
Rangbur gave a curt nod. “Lord Rode.”
Rode rushed to the king in anger. “You haven’t told him!?” He said in a furious whisper. “You haven’t told your own son that he had a twin brother?!”
“Had.” Rangbur echoed sadly and looked out the window. “If I told him what happened he would never forgive me. It’s my fault that I took him out to sea that day!”
“No, it isn’t.” Rode said, his voice softening. “You wouldn’t of known that you were going to be attacked by pirates.”
“But it was I who chose my battle ax over him! And in the end they got that too, so what was the point?” Rangbur held his head in his hands. “I can still hear his voice screaming- and then nothing.”
There was silence and Rode put a hand on the king’s shoulder. “You have to remember you still have one more son. All of the love you felt for him should fall on Raxka.”
Rangbur sighed. “You’re right. Thanks for the advice. You’re a good friend.”
“You’re welcome, sire. I’ll think I’ll stop by the kitchens for some ale, care to join me?”
As the men walked down the hall they neglected to notice an oddly shaped lump behind a tapestry. When they were out of sight, Raxka came out of his hiding place and sunk to the floor.
He had a brother! The thought filled Raxka with a bittersweet feeling. Happy that he had a brother and sad that he was dead.
The fact that he had a twin brother answered one of Raxka’s most curious questions- how he had gotten white hair.
Raxka remembered reading somewhere about wizards who could cast a spell to give twins a different distinct feature to help their parents tell them apart. That’s what probably happened- they both had black hair and after the spell was cast, Raxka had white hair with one black lock. That would mean his brother would have had black hair with one black lock.
Just like the boy in his dream.
Raxka suddenly sat up, a thought suddenly occurring in his head. What if his brother wasn’t dead?
That had to be it! He was probably knocked out when he was captured, and Raxka would find him- somehow. Raxka could feel it.
His brother, his very own twin brother, was captured. Tomorrow, Raxka would sneak away and find him- to set him free.
Princess Velda was the daughter of King Ainrof, who ruled the island city of Valsan, in the middle of the Balso Sea. All people who first met her thought she was pleasant. Perhaps it was her hair that she bleached silver, or her accent that she faked and the servants made fun of, or maybe it was her gracefulness.
But once they were out of sight, Velda turned to her true personality. She was cruel, and most of the time she spend either afflicting it on slaves or practicing in the armory. When she was bored, she handpicked a slave to be her personal servant, and at the end of the month, if they passed her exemptions, they would life. So far, none had passed.
But of course, no one knew that.
There was one, however, an old slave that they called Dogeye, because of his droopy and sunken blind eyes. No one dared to talk to him, as he muttered to himself and shouted in sudden outbursts, and they thought he was quite mad.
Only one slave could talk to him, and that was a thirteen year old boy named Karax.
Nine years ago, some pirates sailed in and sold a five year old boy for some gold coins. Once the other slaves saw that he was small and from across the sea, they knew that he wouldn’t last the month. Slaves that were not born in Valsan or the other surrounding islands never lasted, they said.
Karax proved them wrong. Not only did he survive, but he also managed to pull off so many pranks without getting caught that some of the slaves respected him. He would have been popular with the slaves his age, but he preferred to be by himself or with Dogeye.
“Why does the princess always get so much vegetable guts on the floor?” Karax asked one day as he and Dogeye mopped the training room. “It’s a mess!”
“Be thankful that it’s not your guts.” Dogeye replied, doing a pretty good job of mopping for a blind person.
“Hey, she hasn’t done any think to us yet.” Karax pointed out. “Only to pumpkins.”
“You know she sometimes choses personal servant?” Dogeye asked.
Karax thought for a moment. “That’s right, she does. Often, actually.”
Dogeye twirled his mop. “Well, they never come back.”
The thirteen year old slave was about to reply when Princess Velda herself walked in. “Zlaves, zet up!” She commanded and pointed to Karax. “You vill hand me ze weaponz.”
Karax nodded and walked over to the weapon rack as Dogeye set up some watermelons.
“Axe.” Velda held out her hand and tossed her head.
That’s new. Karax thought as he went through the racks. She’s never asked for an axe before. He finally found it, almost as tall as him and the head was made of a light, silver metal. The handle was strong dark ashwood and there was red velvet for where your hand gripped it.
This is my father’s axe. Karax thought and an image of a boy with white hair with a black lock flashed through his mind.
“ZLAVE!” Velda snapped her fingers “ ‘Urry up!”
Karax shook his head and handed her the weapon. Who was that boy and who was his father? He pondered this as he watched Princess Velda practice. She wasn’t built for the axe, he could tell. She was holding it wrong and was unbalanced. She should stick to rapiers-
“Hey! Zlave!” Velda’s shrill voice interrupted his thoughts. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Um, well…..” Karax stammered, noticing she was losing her accent.
“Spit it out!” She demanded.
“You’re stance is wrong and you’re unbalance.” Karax said quickly. He could feel her piercing gaze sweep over him, inspecting his gold eyes and black hair with one white lock.
To his surprise, she smiled. “You’re the first to be truthful to me. Therefore, you shall be my personal servant.”
Once hearing those words, Karax drifted into a panic. His kept a straight face, as experience taught him and remembered what Dogeye said about the slaves that were Princess Velda’s personal servants. The ones that were never seen again.