Age of War - Chapter 1

Name is under re-construstion. This is the first chapter of my first piece of work, it is still under editation and I would like some feedback. The main character is called Lidisian and is set in a fantasy world.

Chapter One
(Funeral colours)

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the ground below. High in the branches a beautiful red tailed hawk trilled loudly, delighted by the way the sun sparkled on its tail feathers. The bird cocked it head as it heard the rhythmic clumping of hooves. Slowly three horses, a Chestnut, a Cream mare and a glossy Black Stallion, it coat shimmering in the patches of light, rounded the corner. The bird watched the three men, the one in the centre was clad in dark expensive leather, and on his head was a gold circlet, encrusted with strange glittering stones. At his side was a short sword. The riders were just passing below the bird when an arrow shot out of the trees on the far side of the road startled the bird into flight. There was a scream of agony as the arrow buried its self into one of the men’s chest, toppling him from his saddle. The horses reared up flailing at the air as another arrow hit the man closest to the bird in the ribs. Nostrils flaring the Chestnut and the Cream mare bolted. The man with the short sword turned his horse about as a third arrow hit him in the calf, the sharp tip protruding from the back of the mans leg, causing his stallion to unhorse him. Stumbling to his feet, maimed leg dragging and shivering with pain, he drew his sword and looked wildly around. His eyes wide with shock, pupils dilated with fear. His hand cold and sweaty gripped his sword. A twig snapped and he spun around in time to see death flying at him in the form of a black-feathered arrow.

?

The candle flickered briefly then died. A cool breeze wafted ghostly across the kneeling mans back. Shivering Lidisian Stormhawk looked up at the dead candle before him. It had burned down to the metal holder. He was tall in his mid twenties, broad shoulders, with black hair almost brushing his shoulders.
The moon shone briefly through a gap in the thick clouds, illuminating the room with its high arched window and cold marble floor. A ghostly ray of moonlight flickered across the pale man lying still on a stone table, dressed in his burial robes.
Tears trickled down Lidisian face dripping onto his midnight blue mourning shirt. Slowly time began to blur together.

The sun rose and fell, and rose again. Someone touched his shoulder, startling him from his trancelike state. Blinking rapidly Lidisian cleared his eyes. Kneeling in front of him was Assabon, commander of the King’s Elite and two of King Tarasion’s Advisers, all in black robes.
“Lord, you have spent two days mourning at King Tarasion’s body, just as custom requires,” said Assabon.
Slowly Lidisian staggered to his feet, stretching crap from muscles stiff from sitting still for days.
For a moment he stared at the body of his father, face a pale mask of death, hands folded neatly on his stomach. Wiping an errant tear from his eye he left the room.

Standing on the balcony of his personal rooms on the west side of the palace he looked out over Dur-thándil. Far below people bustled about. A sea of black, all dressed in funeral colours. At the near end of Lake Banni a thin strip of red moved slowly towards Dur-thándil under the thick grey clouds. Most likely King Maeglin and his escort, Lidisian thought absentmindedly. Dur-thándil was built at the base of Mount Gilíndin. The Palace and guest rooms sat above everything on a small plateau. The gardens arrayed around it. A king on its throne, the land spread before him. From its magnificent peak you can see for leagues. Banni Lake, glittering with its mysteries and legends. The wide expanse of the Virldarn plains stretching away, And in the far distance a thin streak of brilliant emerald green was the beginning of Du Valmírá. Home of the Elves.
Turning Lidisian went into the bath chamber, undressed and stepped into the hot water. Relaxing, he let time slip away as his thoughts wandered aimlessly over the past few days, struggling to accept the fact that his father, mentor and guide was dead and the weight of the kingdom sat solely on his shoulders.
What would have happened if King Tarasion hadn’t gone for a ride in Thándil pass? What if there were more men with him? What if he had gone with him? Would he still be alive?

Washed and in fresh clothes, the sweat and smell of the vigil washed away, Lidisian sat at the top table of the banquet hall, surveying the assembled nobles and other high-ranking officials. Tranthallan’s in Black and royal Blue, the Elves in eye smarting red, trimmed with dark green, the Elvin mourning colour.
“Welcome King Maeglin I trust your journey was uneventful. If everyone may be seated we may begin” Lidisian said over the general bustle of conversation.
Once everyone was seated a double doors set in the smoothed polished cedar walls opened and the banquet began.
As a serving maid laid a platter before him he looked up and saw a very beautiful elf in her early twenties staring at him from across the table. Blushing she quickly looked down when their eyes meet. He forgot about it when the enticing aromas from his meal wafting into his nose compelled him to eat it.

Dinner had finished some time ago and those that hadn’t felt their bed calling them had moved into a smaller room where they stood or sat around talking. Lidisian stood in front of an open fire. Warming himself and half listening to Lord Kelas talking with Ziesstan, not far away. Glancing up he saw King Maeglin walking towards him and just visible behind him was the young elf that had been looking at him through out dinner.
“Prince Lidisian, this is my daughter, Elariel”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you my lady” he replied, quickly seizing her up.
She was tall, a bit shorter than him, in her early twenties. She had deep green eyes framed by glossy black hair. Once again she blushed when their eyes met.
“The pleasure is mine Lord,” she said swallowing.
“I trust you enjoyed tonight?” Lidisian replied
“Yes my lord”
“Please, call me Lidisian, I do not care much for formalities,” he said looking at Maeglin who had stood silently all the while.
“Elariel, you are tired, off you go now” Maeglin said softly to his daughter in elvish.
She gave her father a quick kiss, curtsied to Lidisian and exited the room.
Maeglin watched her leave then turned back to Lidisian.
“You must excuse her, she is tired from the journey and must retire,” he said to Lidisian.
“Is there somewhere out side we can talk?” Maeglin continued.
“There is, follow me,” Lidisian said leading him out onto a balcony leading down to the main gardens.
For sometime they walked through the gardens, talking about King Tarasion and other important matters, but sometimes they kept silent.
Reaching the far end of the garden Maeglin stopped and turned to Lidisian.
“Lidisian, I want you to know this. I have watched you grow from a small pink-faced baby to a fine young man. If you ever need anything, anything at all. Come to me and I will do my best to help you,” Reaching into his robe he took something out and held it up, it flashed and sparkled as the thin moon beams hit it.
“This is the emblem of a Elídan, in the language of our for fathers it means ‘Elf rights’, wear it and you will have passage anywhere in Du Valmírá and be treated like any Elf” placing the ring on Lidisian’s right King finger, turned and walked silently away.
Lidisian held up his hand and admired the ring. It was made of gold, with a large emerald set into it. In the faint light he could make out elvish runes carved delicately into the surface.
Elídan, he turned the word over in his mind.
He now held the same rights as any Elf.
But why had Maeglin given this to him? Still pondering this he returned to his quarters.

Lidisian lay back on his bed. It was late and he was tired after the long day but couldn’t sleep. The blankets were hot and sticky and he room was hot even with the doors to the garden balcony ajar. His mind roamed free. Back through the day, the ends of his long vigil at his father’s side, the arrival of King Maeglin of the Elves and the ring he had given him. The banquet and Princess Elariel, whom he had caught looking at him numerous times throughout the evening.
Sighing Lidisian got to his feet, put on a long black robe. Belted his dagger onto his waist and slipped out into the garden.

The moon shone high above, a silent watcher. Shining its eerie light on the dark, sleeping land below.
A dark shape caught his eye. Turning he looked down the garden, but it was gone. Dismissing it he sat on a stone bench roughly half way down the garden and ran his fingers over he elaborate carving on the side. Once again something drew his eye to the far end of the garden. A figure in black rose silently from behind a large oak tree ten meters away, not far from where Maeglin, the Elvish King had been given quarters.
Lidisian’s hand crept slowly to his dagger. Words said by many of his highborn friends weaved through his mind. Don’t leave your rooms after dark without an escort. King Tarasion was murdered. They my come for you also.
Lidisian slid back into the shadows of the tree behind. Feeling its rough bark rub against back. Minutes slid past. The figure came to a halt and sat down on the stone bench Lidisian had just vacated.
Silently drawing his dagger he crept forward. The form let out a startled gasp as Lidisian swiftly placed his blade against its throat.

“Who are you?” the question was quiet, barely audible. Lidisian could feel the fear in it.
He didn’t answer but with his free hand removed the hood.
Lidisian barely held back a gasp of shock. Before him was the beautiful elf from the banquet, Princess Elariel, looking pale and scared in the moonlight, a single drop of scarlet blood rolled down her smooth skin.
Lidisian slowly worked saliva through his dry mouth.
“Forget this ever happened,” he said slowly
When she didn’t reply he quickly turned and tried to melt back into the shadows.
Moving past a large tree he looked back to where he had left the Elf. She was gone. Turning around he came face to face with the Princess.
“Who are you?” the question was just as quiet as before but behind it he sensed not fear, but curiosity.
“You don’t need to know” he replied
“Lidisian” she said
Puzzled he kept quiet.
“It is you isn’t it”
“What makes you think that?” he asked, already preparing to go.
“You sound like him, I first met him when I was eleven, he was seventeen and I talked with him tonight”
Lidisian turned and began to walk away.
“Please, don’t, I just want to talk to you,” she said softly, catching his arm.
He could have just pulled free, maybe he should have but something inside him made him stop.
Sighing he shrugged he hand off and removed his hood, the ring flashing briefly as it caught the faint moonlight.
Elariel caught his hand and ran her slim fingers over the stone.
“Who gave you this? When? Why?” she asked, puzzlement dancing in her eyes green eyes.
“Your father. He gave it to me shortly after you left. I don’t know why”
“Elídan. It hasn’t been given to any for hundreds of years”
“Why are you out so late?” asked Lidisian.
“I couldn’t sleep” Elariel replied still running her fingers over the stone and ring.
“You too” he said withdrawing his hand from her hold he climbed up onto the garden wall.
“You wanted to talk?” he asked staring out over the sleeping city, his city.
“Yes, I want to know about you, your land. I know nothing but what I have been taught by my people,” she said seating her self beside him.
Lidisian thought for a moment then began as if compelled by an unknown reason.
“I was born and raised he in Dur-thándil and never knew my mother. When I was young I enjoyed exploring, I was a risk taker, the more the risk, the better. The mountains where my stronghold, as I reached my teens I would climb high into the peaks. There I could loose myself and look down on the land I would someday rule. There I could run and hide, hide myself from the land and people I would have to rule. I didn’t look forward to being king. I was an adventurer and saw Kingship as a doom. It would limit my movements. When I was fourteen I meet a boy who could have been my brother. His name was Dailqir. He was tall, dark skinned and black hair. We went everywhere together. He was a blacksmith’s son, enlisted in the palace guard. With him I could escape from the busy life of a prince and pretend I was a normal person. Not a prince fated to rule his kingdom. But when we were both seventeen I went with my father to survey the fiefs and visit the Lords.
We where staying at Trith. We went riding, my father sent eight guards with us. Trith is on the Brithr boarder and it was raiding season.” Lidisian paused, reliving the moment, then continued.
“We rode for hours deep into the forest and the mountains, the guards were silent. It was just coming to midday and we were about to turn back. But even as we turned a spray of arrows sprung from the bushes on ether side of the narrow path killing three of the guards. I recognized the arrows immediately.  They were long, with a long tapering point made of black steel. The remaining guards quickly surrounded us, eyes scanning the sides of the road for any signs of the raiding party. From somewhere above us I heard a snarl. Twisting round I saw a tall Brithran. Dark skin, orange eyes blazing mercilessly out like twin flames. Red tattooed stripes swirled and zigzagged down his cheeks and over his shoulders. Smiling he raised a tall bow made of dark red wood and let loose a shaft. The shaft slammed into my shoulder with such force it knocked me off Gildriner, my horse. Staggering to my feet I saw two more guards go down, arrows buried deep in their bodies, their lifeblood staining the earth.”
“Beside me Dailqir, brandished a glaive. Turning I saw three Brithran warriors close of the path, more surrounded us. My hand gripped the handle of my sword. Drawing from its sheath. Abruptly the Brithran warriors charged blades flickering like snakes. Startled the guards reacted to slow. The blades flashed out cutting them down. Dailqir stepped forward meeting the onslaught. He killed six of them in swift precision. Not one made it to me without being cut down. They slowly tightened the circle. We were now standing back to back. Holding my breath I counted them. Sixteen. There were sixteen of them, all armed with long swords, thin and as sharp as razors. All at once they leapt forward.
It all happened at once I’m still not sure what happened. The world around me exploded into a frantic dance of blades. I was covered in blood, my blood, their blood, Dailqir’s blood. Something seemed to wrap it’s self around me, slowing my movements. Turning sluggishly I saw Dailqir stumble and fall. One of the Brithran warriors grabbed him and slung him over his shoulder and walked calmly into the forest. As quickly as they had appeared, they vanished into the undergrowth. Above me I saw the Brithran raise his hand, eyes flashing. As he lowered his hand darkness covered my vision.” Lidisian broke of, staring out over the city.
It was some time before he continued.
“So I lost him when I had only just found him, I may well have lost another brother, he had became family to me. He’ll be dead, or a slave somewhere in Brithr.” Lidisian sighed.
While he had talked Elariel had sat silently, listening respectfully, gazing out over the city towards Thándil pass.
Why did I just tell her all that? Lidisian wondered to himself.
“It’s late and my fathers funeral is tomorrow. I at least will return to my quarters,” he said getting up.
“Good night, I think I will go also,” Elariel said quietly, pulling her hood up and climbing down.
“I shall see you tomorrow then.”
Lidisian watched her until she was lost from sight. Turning he walked slowly up the garden path. Up the stone steps and entered his chamber. Collapsing on his bed he let sleep wrap around him and pull him into the realms dreams. Or Nightmares.

All night Lidisian tossed and turned, haunted by images from his past. He saw his brother, thin and weak, lying on a bed soaked in sweat and blood, hanging on the verge of death. His haunted eyes red and sunken.
Lidisian felt like he was tumbling, down, down into the bowels of the earth.
Jerking to a halt he found him self on a beach. Before him was the wreck of the Tarros, driven there by pounding waves and lashing rain. Slowly he moved. Lidisian tried to struggle, knowing what he was about to see. But it was hopeless; he was eighteen again, reliving the worst moments of his life. Looking down he saw his uncle’s body. Bones broken in many places he lay twisted on the sand, blood flowing freely from a gash in his head. His glassy eyes wide and frightened, staring blankly out of his bloated face.

Lidisian woke shaking, sweat soaked his blankets twisted around him. It was some early hour of the morning. The sun hadn’t yet showed its face but dawn was creeping slowly across the slumbering land. Lidisian stood up pulling he blankets off him. Sitting in the centre of the room he closed his eyes. Sighing he took a deep breath and emptied his mind. His breathing slowed and time seamed to slow with it, his body relaxed and the torment and dark memories form the night ran out of him like water from a broken bowl. Lidisian stood there for some time, floating in the dark void of his mind.
He was awoken by the door to his chambers opening and a hand touching his shoulder.
“Sir, the sun has risen, you should dress. I have brought your breakfast,” said Matir his servant.
“Thank you” replied Lidisian smiling, as he smelt the aroma of his breakfast.