Innocente, Book One of the Atokra Chronicles Options

[Darkom]

Atokra Chronicles
Book One: Innocente

Part One: Carcerato

Prologue
Sudemone, Kingdom of Sacropisa; 134 Kaieta Età, E.I.

The Agkel prisoner was dragged into the grand hall by chains. The bloody rags that covered her gaunt frame did not hide the dark purple of blossoming bruises, nor the long red gashes that crossed her pale body. Her thin face, swollen with bruises, was still held high. Her broken wings hung from a proud, straight back. Her pale blue eyes challenged each dignitary she passed to look upon what they had done, at the blood they had spilled. Each one dropped their gaze under the weight of that regal stare. Her feet were the only part of her not streaked with crimson, having been washed so she would not stain the king’s marble floors as she approached the throne.

Finally, the armored guards dragging the prisoner came to a stop, falling on one knee before the golden throne of the Lord of Sudemone. The splendidly dressed Vir sat rigidly in his throne, studying the bloody Agkel with a cold eye. His round face was turned upwards in a confident smile, his teeth bared like a wolf that has cornered its prey.

“So you have returned to my hall, heathen Agkel. Have you repented for your sins? The Sacrodeo forgives all peoples, even whores and traitors such as yourself.” The king leaned forward, his thick fingers gripping the golden arms of his throne, jeweled rings clinking in the silence of the hall. His expression was cold, but his eyes flickered with a dark glee; the pleasure before the kill.

The bloody Agkel looked up at him through the tangles of her frayed blonde hair with a defiant gaze. She straightened under the weight of her chains, fresh blood trickling from the scrapes the manacles left on her wrists. Her thin lips pursed in anger, but she said nothing.

“I am giving you a chance to redeem yourself, Agkel. I advise you take it.” The man glared down at the prisoner, his round face stern beneath his crown. The retainers lining the hall watched the scene quietly, the tension between the king and prisoner palpable. Their gaze flickered between the defiant Agkel and the scowling Vir; some held the prisoner with contempt, others merely with boredom. “Very well,” the Vir continued, settling back into his throne with his wolfish grin. “Bring in the boy.”

The Agkel’s defiant face did not change. Only her widening eyes revealed her horror. Two more armored Vir appeared at the great double doors at the front of the hall, flanking a small, blonde haired child. The boy stared ahead with eyes close to tears, latching at once to the bloodied visage of his mother. Only a thick iron collar round his neck kept him from running towards the Agkel, the other end of the chain held like a leash by one of the armored men. The guards led him into the center of the hall, the boy’s gray eyes meeting the mother’s blue ones, misery and fear shared by an unspoken bond.

“Now shall you admit your sin? Shall you admit the crimes you have committed, against your people and mine? Your husband is already repenting in the frozen pits of Nokenum, I am sure. If you are not careful, you and your son may join him. Do not fear, however; the Sacrodeo Kai is more than forgiving.” The king spread his pale hands to the vaulted ceiling, bowing his crowned head like a preacher. His thick lips twisted upwards in a malicious smile.

“Please, do not hurt him.” The Agkel turned to the king, her voice as regal as her stance; the only sign of her misery the tears welling beneath her pale eyes. “He has done nothing; he does not even know his father. There is nothing he can do to you now.”

The king winced at the mention of the boy’s father, but his menacing smile recovered quickly. His golden crown glittered against his dark hair as he shook his head. “That is not for me to decide, Mitaura. Only the Holy Patrikai can judge this- this thing.” The Vir’s face hardened as he regarded the child.

A tremor ran through Mitaura as the man spoke, her stately mask cracking. She glanced at the whimpering child- her child- and her back straightened once more, the broken wings shifting. “Please, Lord Balduino, I still hold some power with my people, with those that still fight the Latokra. Leave me my son, and I can help you. Help you fight the cretin who murdered his father.”

“It is the church’s place to decide what is to become of such a- such an abomination,” the king snapped. “I have no use for you, or your heathen allies. The Sacrodeo shall see your Latokra dead without your help, as surely as your late husband. Ligio, take the boy away; make sure he is ready for the journey to Erumii. Pray the Patrikai is merciful, Mitaura.”

A tall, stone faced Vir appeared at the king’s side, three golden flames of rank on his armored chest. The soldier bowed to the king silently before stepping towards the blonde haired child, his calm brown eyes well accustomed to obedience.

Mitaura’s outraged cries stopped the man in his tracks. “You shall take him nowhere! I have endured your tortures and your dungeons, but I refuse to endure your self-righteousness any longer! You preach the peace of Kai, yet you kill without mercy. Who are you to-“

“Silence!” the king roared, pulling himself to his feet before his throne, “You dare profane the Sacrodeo’s name with your heathen tongue? I shall do as the True Light commands me, and none shall question my judgment of His will!”

Mitaura’s pale face regarded the king with open malice, blood dripping onto the floor as she raised one slim finger to the king. “Then I curse you, Balduino, you and your so called gods. The Pystokra shall rise once more, and he shall smite your pathetic Patriaky. Kill me if you will, but I pray you shall live to see your god fall to ours.”

The king’s eyes blazed at Mitaura’s words. His round face was red with fury as he pointed one commanding finger at the Agkel. “Remove this blasphemer from my sight! Take her where her poisonous blood cannot stain my halls, and kill her!”

Mitaura’s two guards seized her roughly by her thin arms, scowling at the Agkel, and pulled her forcibly towards the door. The prisoner’s cold eyes remained on the king, spitting at the Vir as she was dragged away. Her spittle left a spray of red on the pale stone floors.

“Mana!” the young boy cried, straining against the stone faced Vir’s grip. His gray eyes streamed with fresh tears, his short arms outstretched towards his mother.

The Agkel turned her pale eyes towards her son, the icy blue softening to a deep azure. “Peace, child,” she smiled at the boy, soothing him in her native tongue, “It is your destiny to avenge your father. The Traignos would not let you die so easily as me, my son. My Edisi.”

“Mana,” the boy cried again, watching as his mother disappeared through the great double doors.

The tall Vir beside him placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder, his deep brown eyes troubled. “It-it’ll be okay. I promise.”

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Hello everyone! I know it's not really Tes fan fiction, but I just thought I'd share my current story with everyone here at Chorrol. Some of you may know me, but for those of you that don't (the majority, I'm certain), I frequent BGSF, as well as some other writing forums. I've been wanting to join here for quite a while, but never had the time. Now, however, I plan on coming regularly, both with updates on this story and, hopefully, some good reviews for other member's works. Thank you all so much for reading, any and all criticism is very much appreciated.


EDIT: Changed up the king's responses a little bit. Hopefully he'll come off as more of a jerk now, who is simply toying with Mitaura.

This post has been edited by Darkom: Jul 14 2011, 05:28 PM