The Axe in the Stone: Prologue

Prologue

When I was born, my family was wholly engrossed, in love with my twin brother Theodor, born twenty minutes before me, already boasting about how much older he was. And when I turned fifteen, not much had changed.
It was, of course, a very natural thing since one could see that Theodor was the wonderful one. The prince, the heir. All because he was born twenty minutes before me.

And what a prince he was!

When Theo was young, he would walk into our mother's chambers and charm her and her ladies just by talking; he always told stories of all the games he had played, while I stood at the doorway, staring at the figure of confidence talking away in a blithe and happy way. Theodor's very air of cheerfulness made everyone feel at ease in his presence; he could light up a room and make people laugh as easily as he breathed. He was easier to get along with than me, perfectly normal since I am rather stubborn.

I envied his easy talk, and cheerful ways. It wasn't as though I hadn't tried: it's just because I was bound for failure the minute I opened my mouth. On more than one occasion, I got into arguments about governmental business, trades, agriculture and couture with the old widows of my mother's quarters.

'But, if we trade with Sorskalin, milady, we'll lose our connections with Faris, on which, begging your pardon, we depend on much more!' I would say, desperately trying to make the stubborn woman known as Lady Halfria see the light, or my seven-year old judgement.

In case you were wondering, Sorskalin and Faris are countries. I come from the country Navaria, where I am part of the royal family of the Axenstones as daughter of King Wrencys. I'm not Your Highness, I'm Taryn, pleasure to meet you, and no, I don't feel like dancing.

I hate dancing. But, I do love reading.

As I was saying, whenever I got into a debate or discussion, my mortified mother soon took me outside for a quick talk on how little children should be seen and not heard. And every time this happened, Theodor walked back inside amid giggles and sighs as I received the correcting for embarrassing Mama, being too blunt, and for interrupting an adult. Basically, being my own stubborn self while Theodor was praised for his own cheerful self. I tried my best not to be sullen about it, but sometimes it was hard!

As you can tell, although we are twins, Theo and I weren't and still aren't very much alike. . .

Our hair may be ash brown, and our eyes, clear grey, but Theodor's hair is perfect, he's leaner and taller while my hair is bushy and I'm stocky.

I am also much more... shall we say intense, compared to him. Loyalty is always important for me, whereas Theo is fiercely independent, always wanting to discover and explore the world around him while I love staying in the same place, in my own comfort zone. How many the times that we'd fought over running away when Mother was angry at us for trouble we'd caused in the court? Far too many.

Through it all, however, we remained best friends all through our childhood and adolescence. As children, we always played together, me with my dolls on the top of the spring green hillside, pretending to be the damsel in distress and he at the bottom with a little wooden sword, as the knight trying to save me from the evil dragon that we pretended, was Emilya, our large, slightly evil nurse who spent all her afternoons sewing and re-sewing the holes my siblings and I made in our play, muttering how dwarf children should know better than to play like horses of Faris, the country of the centaurs, far to the east of our country.

No, you read correctly: we are dwarfs, the mythical creature and no, we don't measure 2 feet. I unfortunately measure 4''8 while my brother is 5''3.

Many people, diplomats or lords and ladies that visit Castle Exteda, used to think that dwarf stereotypes were a little overbearing before they met dwarfs. Most of them, now whole-heartedly agree.
Most dwarves have a terrible temper, love stones, precious metals and the likes and are experts in metallurgy and weapon building. Our adults measure anywhere from 3'' to 5''5. Smiles are rarely given by members of the upper court. But above all these characteristics, one gift surpasses them all.

***
Whenever Theo had a question, he would always go to Mama or Papa to have it answered.

Our father was no ordinary man, having ascended to the throne of Navaria at the age of 29. Everyone knew him as Wrencys, Your Majesty, or in my Mama's case Wonderful. I liked to call him Papa. Oftentimes, I liked him better than Mama but that's because unlike her, he didn't punish me for my brash mouth. He was a tall dwarf, about 5''5, with twinkling deep blue eyes set with deep smile lines and bushy ash brown hair like mine and a beard that only started graying when I was eleven.

Although she was no longer young, my mother, Dana Goldenharp. was still uncommonly beautiful. That night, she had let down her long brown hair from its long plaits and it lay becomingly on her shoulders, garbed in her midnight silk gown that softly became her. Her grey eyes twinkled with happiness whenever my father was in the room because, unlike many nobles of the time, my father and mother loved each other deeply.

Every evening, my family would sit together and talk about our day together. Since we never really could talk during the breakfast, midday and dinner banquets and during most of the day, and because in those times, parents had their work and children their studies, we didn't see each other as often as other peasant families. Instead, our family meetings always occurred at twilight in my parent's apartments, where we would sit and discuss.

Although we didn't see them all the time, Theo, my little sister Tyria and I were always very close to them and loved them deeply. Their mutual love and affection spread to all of us. Without it, God knows what we would've become. The lessons they taught me help me each and every day of my life.

Anyways, that evening, when Theo and I were eight, my father and mother were seated and chatting together while my sister Tyria, then a chubby little urchin, lay asleep in a large bassinet besides my mother. My brother and I were escorted in by Emilya, who grumbled a greeting to my parents and left us to our own devices.

Seconds later, my brother and I were seated on our parents lap and we were already talking. I'd scrambled onto my father's lap; that day, he was wearing his somber black vest and trousers which he normally wore for riding his black stallion.

'Papa,' I said, scrambling onto his lap with a happy laugh, 'What did you do today?'

'Well,' Said Papa, quietly, and I noticed a sad look cross his face. 'I went to visit my brotherâs grave with your Mama.'

'Oh.'

My mother was quick to change the subject. She knew just how painful it was for my father, although I would only discover it all later.

'How is your schooling coming along, Taryn? What did you learn today?' She asked. She put down her sewing beside my sister Tyria's wooden horse. On the ground, Tyria lay fast asleep, probably exhausted from all her tot playing.

Tyria was three years younger than us. A bright little girl, very chubby with dimples the size of grains of rice amidst her round pink cheeks, she was a charming babe and everyone in the castle liked her. But, as a five-year old tyke with not much interest in anything but dolls; she wasn't what Theo and I would call a good playmate, though we did love her.

Anyways...

I told my mother about my class in painting that day. Theo however didn't answer. We all found it very odd since Theo is such a chatterbox, he never requires coaxing to speak.

'Theodor, is everything all right?' Papa asked. Mama curled his thick brown hair with her fingers and kissed his little face in concern.

'Mama, what is wrong with our skin?' Said Theo, suddenly.

'What do you mean, Theodor?' She seemed slightly confused.

'Our skin... It doesn't burn in the fire like humans.' He said, reluctantly.

He lifted his sleeve and I saw it was burned crisp, a fine garment of red and the edge was charred black.

'Theo,' Said Papa, concerned, 'What happened today? How come you just learned about this?'

'I discovered it when my friends, you know the sons of the human diplomats, saw me leaning on the side of the fire and watched as my sleeve caught fire. They called me a sorcerer...' Said Theo, sullen, 'I didnât realize it was bad to be different from humans. . .'

My mother was very angry, and her grey eyes flashed. I saw her hand clench slightly.

'Well! I'm sorry to say, Theodor, but those human children aren't very good friends. I don't want you-' She looked at both of us.

'Or you, Taryn, to think yourselves bad because you're different than humans. And Theo, our ability to withstand fire and ice, heat and cold is nothing to look down upon.'

'Wait... Fire and ice can't hurt us?' I said.

My mother shook her head.

'Not at all... It's quite funny; I've always wanted to feel what heat would be like but of course, I can't. Try it; put your hand in the fire, it won't hurt you.'

My brother and I went obligingly and knelt down by the fire.

My hand advanced to touch the wood. A small flame, bright and cheerful, crept up and softly kissed my fingertips. Beautiful and glowing, I admired the soft touch of the flickers of light passing through my fingers like water and out on my palms. I felt no pain, just a caressing sensation. The smell of the burning, smoking wood and the sound of crackles, as though the fire were laughing at some personal joke was so calming, I felt completely at peace.
I smiled and my heart lifted at the thought of our gift. I drew my hand from the fire.

'What a beautiful gift, Mama...' I said, happily. I went back down and sat on my father's lap and showed him my unscathed hand. 'Look, Papa!'

Papa chuckled. Mama smiled at me.

'It is beautiful... But we must take care. Fire is like love: when it grows, it spreads. We must be careful not to let the fire spread since it burns everything in itâs passage. We must stay alert at all times.'

My brother came back and of course, had to ask a question.

'But, how on Earth did we receive this gift? It seems to me so odd...' He said, questioning.

'You know well the beginnings of our country...' My mother started. She didn't have to continue. We knew by heart the beginnings of that magical tale but Mummy recounted it to us once more, this time adding some details we had not heard before.

'At the beginning, the dwarves had no country and lived as nomads, erring from place to place, cast away by all the peoples of Centur, except maybe Faris. As we began multiplying, Laire, our leader, needed a place for his people. And that's when the Fayris queen-'

'Mummy, what's a fayris?' Asked Theo, looking up into her face.

'They're magical beings that greatly resemble humans but that sprout wings at a certain age and can control a certain amount of magic. Anyways... the Fayris queen Faynir was a beautiful being, by the way. Some say an angel. They say that her long red hair was longer than a river and alive, enchanted by the spirit of the air-'

'That may be,' Interrupted my father, taking my mother's hand, 'but my wife is a thousand times more beautiful than her!'

His blue eyes twinkled as a soft pink blush rose in her cheeks.

'Faynir and her people helped us claim our territory, you know, from the Wraiths,' She said, still blushing, although the creatures she was talking about were far from blush-worthy, 'It seemed only fair that Laire should present her a gift in thanks for her people's actions. Of course, he had to make her a silviron sword.'

'Mum, was it the ancient silviron?' I asked, curiously. We asked a lot of questions when we were eight.

'Imagine wind and water, forged to make the strongest and lightest weapon ever found on Centur!' My father said, stroking my curly hair as he sat in his favorite cherry wood chair by the large bay window that overlooked the wondrous mountains upon which our castle was perched. 'Ages ago, an alchemist, Ven Coalx discovered a metal different than any that had ever been made in Centur and called it Silviron. A mix of silver and iron heated to such an extreme temperature that both metals magically intertwine, never to part once the mixture cools down, stronger than any other metal existing and light as a caladrius feather. But for the intertwining to happen, the metals must be heated by dragon fire.'

My mother continued her tale, her grey eyes staring off into the distance out the bay window.

'Apparently, the queen was so moved by her gift, that a tear fell down her cheek onto the cheek of the dwarf King Laire. Following her example, the other Fayris did the same.'

She said with pride:

'Thus the Fayris so loved our work that they blessed us with a gift.'

My father laughed at this, sitting in his chair holding my mother's hand and added in his deep bear-like voice:

'Yes, but when they saw our table manners, they shortened us so we wouldn't be able to reach their tables.'

They laughed at the joke as Theodor inevitably asked another question I don't remember and my father explained in the patient, loving way he always had done for us.

Our skin's capacity to withstand heat and cold has been a part of the Navarian culture for a very long time... It was a rather surprising thing that my brother and I hadn't clued into it before now but my parents never worried of our being too sheltered or clueless but to be honest, some clues could have told us of our power.

For instance, because our gift, for centuries, the dwarf nobles of Centur color their skin in bright colors, to demonstrate beauty, power, wealth, fame and much more... It's always been funny for me to watch the various diplomats that come to stay in our castle try and fit in with the people of the court, and color their faces a deep peach or light pink. No, we love different colors, like fern green, violet, rose. My personal favorites are navy and silver and red. A very silly fashion trend, nevertheless, rather notable. Also, dwarves have no problem living high up in the mountains in the bitter cold and creating fantastic works of steel and blades without burning to a crisp.

As for silviron, witnessing the effects of Silviron on the people who in their greed, used the silviron weapons against their enemies, Ven Coalx disappeared with the formula, leaving only a cryptic message that would lead whoever figured out the riddle to the Axe in the Stone: a magical axe, that would only respond to the true heir of Navaria's touch. Unfortunately, the cryptic message was destroyed under mysterious circumstances and the axe was never found. For years, the people of Navaria demanded to find the axe, to prove who was the rightful king of Navaria. Some rulers even had to deal with rebellions. Even my father had once set an army of men to find the alchemist's trove and bring back Coalx's manuscripts but all his efforts were in vain.

The axe was never to be found till I was fifteen years of age.