Prince Noralv- Edge of Shadows

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  PRINCE NORALV: EDGE OF SHADOWS

  Copyright © 2018 by JT Harris.

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published by Jemm Publishing

  www.jtharriswriter.com

  ISBN 978-1-7752097-0-6

  ISBN 978-1-7752097-1-3 (ebook)

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book cover design and interior formatting by Molly Phipps at We Got You Covered Book Design

  To Jen, for listening and giving creative advice since the concept (my number one fan – wink, wink)

  To Wendy, for your honesty and letting me ramble on – even if it’s getting late.

  To all my parents, thank you for encouraging me to follow my dreams.

  And to Matt, for maintaining my sanity through it all. You are my everything.

  With a loud, resonating crack, my wooden practice sword was ripped from my hands, skittering across the wooden floor. It almost hit the feet of my fellow students. I licked my lips and tasted the salt of my sweat. Adrenaline rolled over everyone in the room - they could hardly stand still.

  The force of the blow was so hard my hands were still vibrating. Sweat beaded on my brow and slipped down the side of my face. The tip of a wooden practice sword hovered an inch from my neck. Headmaster Clovis had focus creased in his old face before it melted into a smile. He lowered his sword.

  “Well done, Highness,” said the Headmaster. “Your skills are improving.”

  “Thank you, Master.” I swallowed to help slow my quickened breath. I had lost the match. Against the Headmaster of Etheldred Academy, I had always lost.

  I was aelven royalty, born of House Noralv. Guardians of the people of Theotania, the grandson of the Cempa, The Great Champion. Because of my status, the masters of the academy were my only opponents.

  Headmaster Clovis carried the title of a royal noble. It was an honor granted to him and the other masters of Etheldred by my family. To strike a member of the Royal House was forbidden to anyone of a lower status. The punishment was death. No one dared risking their life for a sparring match. And so, as my sparring partners were always of high nobility, they had great control over their skill.

  “My pleasure, Master Thayne.” He slipped the wooden sword into the stiff, golden sash tied around his waist. With his left fist pressed into the palm of his right hand he bowed.

  With a frustrated sigh, I returned the bow, my fist in my palm. “Next time, I will win.”

  “Until then.” He smiled amusingly.

  It was the same statement I had said many times before, and his response was also the same. It was my way of never giving in to defeat. I knew I had many years of practice ahead of me before I would ever beat the old man in a sparring match.

  He dismissed the students from the smylteum, a hall meant for training of the heart, mind, and body. The class all quietly bowed then became a happy, mingled group, all chatting among themselves. Some went on to put all the weapons away before meeting the others to wash their hands and face. They put on their winter cloaks or jackets and left for the day.

  I went to the front of the hall, sat crossed-legged, and meditated, my back to the wall. Something I did at the end of every training day. Geir, my companion and guardian, sat beside me. His sinewy arms crossed in front of his thin chest with each hand tucked up the other sleeve. It may have looked like he was cold, bored, or too relaxed to do his job, but knowing Geir as long as I had, he was very aware of our surroundings at all times. Probably even had daggers up his sleeves.

  On the wall behind us hung two, long, tan cloth banners side by side. One banner had, scripted downward in a dark green, outlined in gold, the name Etheldred. Ivy was scrolled at the bottom, in what looked like a very shallow ‘u’. It represented the valley between the mountains, the symbol of the city of Stanrocc.

  The other banner mirrored the first except with the name Noralv scripted downward. At the bottom was the face of a black wolf-beast wearing a crown of ivy, the symbol of the Royal House Noralv.

  After meditating, I washed my hands and face then dressed in my winter coat. I pulled my fur lined hood down over my short, pointed ears, covering the pewter cuff earring on the top of my left ear. Everyone born of nobility had their left ear pierced with the symbol of the House they served. The symbolic ivy of my birthplace was etched around the metal band, along with the crowned wolf-beast of my House in the center. The wolf and the ivy represented friendship, loyalty, and strength. My father dedicated himself and his family to that truth.

  During the winter, the cuff always made my ear feel extra cold. I disliked the cold. I pulled my fur-lined, leather jacket over my sage-green tunic uniform. The fine brocade wrap tunic fits over any type of clothing and can be worn during any season. Tied with a stiff, gold sash wrapped tightly around my waist, my loose tunic stayed in place. As a child, my tunics used to hang off my body like clothes on a scarecrow, but not so much anymore. Everyone says I’m built like my father, thick and strong, and have my mother’s soft and kind features. I suppose they’re right.

  I left the academy late that afternoon and stopped in the doorway to bow to Headmaster Clovis. All the students did as it was customary.

  He bowed gracefully then smiled, amplifying the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth.

  “It’s quite chilly this evening. More snow is coming.” He pulled his deep green robe tighter around him, embellishing a shiver. His long-braided beard danced across his belly.

  “How do you know it will snow?” I said.

  Master Clovis winked at me. “I can feel it in my bones.”

  “Right.” I smiled.

  “Until tomorrow, Highness.” He nodded.

  The light wind was brisk as the late afternoon fell into dusk. Indigo hues swept across the clouded sky and shimmered off the stale snow-covered ground. Lantern lighters carried their torches and, one by one, lit each lantern that lined the path to the front gate of the academy. Each flame in their own wooden house lined with frosted glass sat on top of a high post. The roofs on the lantern houses had a slight up-curve at the end. It mimicked the style of the houses within the berg grounds.

  As I walked the flat stone path to the front gate, I could f
eel Geir’s presence behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see him following me close, yet keeping his distance to not crowd me.

  My friends, Yorunn Greyson and Frey Batok, were waiting for me at the gate. Yorunn was leaning against one of the four posts that held up the narrow roof that arched over the wide entrance. He had a dog bite scar on his cheek that looked faded in the orange light cast from the lamp. Frey was at least a head taller than Yorunn and rake thin. Yorunn, in contrast, was built like a tree—a short, sturdy tree. He was in his father’s image, much like myself. The two of them were laughing about something as I approached.

  “Hey, Thayne.” Yorunn looked past Frey. His frosty breath puffed from his mouth.

  One of the lamplighters looked to Yorunn, wide-eyed and mouth gaping. He looked so shocked I thought he was going to drop his torch.

  “I mean Highness.” He exaggerated each word with a hint of sarcasm then bowed low. The lamplighter recovered himself and went back to his duty. Normally, calling me by my first name was only meant for close relations and my superiors. Everyone else had to use an honorific like ‘Sir’, ‘Highness’, or use my full title ‘Unannounced Prince Thayne of House Noralv’, or Prince Noralv. Never just Thayne.

  “Were you disrespecting me?” I said, doing my best to feign disapproval. These two were my best friends since early childhood. Since we were in a casual environment, I didn’t care what they called me.

  Frey smirked. “That’s what I heard,” he said as he led the way to the stepped path leading toward the Sunniva Gardens.

  “I could have Geir arrest you,” I said

  “Come on. You wouldn’t do that?” Yorunn raised a brow.

  “Eh.” I shrugged. “It’s not like there’s a lot going on right now. It’s winter. There’s usually nothing exciting until the Spring Festival and tournament. That’s a month away.”

  Yorunn blinked, staring blankly at me. “Your point?”

  “Ugh. You’re no fun.” I waved my hand in front of his face as if to shoo him away. “Let’s go find something to do before we have to dress for dinner.”

  “Did you see Bria looking at you today?” Yorunn nudged me with his elbow.

  “No.” I said. “Should I have?”

  I admit that I had been finding excuses to be near her, occasionally watching her spar from the corner of my eye. Who wouldn’t? Bria was a skilled fighter, daughter of a warrior, and, holy goddess Dimness, was she cute. I didn’t want to seem too eager that I approved of his information.

  “I didn’t notice.” I managed to hold back a grin.

  “How could you not notice?” Frey faced me while walking backward. “She kept glancing at you almost every chance she could get.”

  “Yeah, and at the last second before you would look in her direction, she would look away and blush.” Yorunn smiled. “Oh mighty Thayne, one day I’ll make you mine,” he said in a higher voice while pretending to hide his face behind an imaginary paper fan as though to hide a blush.

  I pushed my palm into his face. He laughed.

  “Just admit you like her,” said Frey.

  “Thayne!” called a voice from behind us. “Wait!”

  My sister, Daria, climbed the steps after us. Her green, brocade uniform was more of a dress than a tunic with slits up the sides for ease of movement. Worn with leggings for warmth and modesty, the tunic hung to her shins and peaked out the bottom of her lilac embroidered jacket. Hedda, her companion, followed close behind. Unlike Daria, Hedda wore men’s attire. I believe she felt more comfortable in them. Her short black hair was slicked back, as always.

  I stopped and looked at Frey. “Okay. If I must tell you who I like then it’s about time for you to tell Daria your feelings toward her.” A sly smile spread across my face. “Or do you need me to do it for you?”

  “I think this subject matter is now closed.” Frey grabbed my shoulder as if to steady himself.

  “Are you sure? Cause I don’t mind telling her. She is almost here,” I said.

  “I’m good.” He turned forward and straightened his tunic.

  “Perfect opportunity.”

  “What opportunity?” Daria asked. Snaking her arms around my arm, she hugged it.

  “It’s nothing,” I said.

  “Oh. I see. Boy stuff, right?” She looked at each of us as if she could read everything on our minds. “Ugh. Boys are so simple. It doesn’t matter because I have something more fun.” She leaned in close to me and waved Frey and Yorunn in. Yorunn and Frey shrugged at each other then joined us.

  “I think we should all go climb some trees,” she whispered.

  “Daria, we are too old to be climbing trees.” I crossed my arms.

  “Too old! How can you be too old?” She crossed her arms. “There’s a rumor going around that some guys scaled the wall of the ladies’ side of the bathhouse, and I have it on good authority that those guys were you.” With a swish of her finger, she pointed to all of us.

  “On whose authority?” I asked.

  “Mine.” She stepped closer to me.

  “Really?” I took a step closer to her.

  “Really.” She stood firm. “I’d hate for Mother to find out.” She looked at her nails then back at me. “Or Father.” She was a conniving brat sometimes.

  “You know what? I want to go climb some trees,” I said.

  Daria jumped and clapped her hands. “Yeah,” she said.

  She led us to the cherry orchard near the inner berg wall. We all nodded our courtesies as we passed the guards on duty near the entrance, then ran to the trees closest to the ramparts.

  “Okay, Daria. We are here to climb the trees, as you wanted,” I said. “Now tell us the real reason why you brought us here.”

  Daria often had a dozen ideas running through her head at any given time. Though she usually had thoughts of make-believe, adventure, or eavesdropping. She looked at me with a twinkle in her eye.

  “I heard that Father had a meeting with Mielonders today. It’s probably still going on.” She smiled a pleading smile.

  “I knew it.” I scoffed. “Obviously, the meeting isn’t in the trees. Where is it taking place?” I crossed my arms.

  “Over there.” She pointed in the direction of the wall. Yorunn and I exchanged glances, and Geir cleared his throat loudly and on purpose. I took a deep breath, then let it out all at once.

  “Daria, you know we can’t go over.” I pointed to the wall.

  “Go over! I’m not risking that. I have my good name to protect,” she said.

  I scowled at her. Always Miss Perfect. Everyone adored Daria wherever she would go. She could do no wrong. Just like our elder brother, Ryhan, she was perfect in every way. Then there was Vala, our eldest sibling, and me. We challenged everything and everyone, defying the rules was our specialty. We had lived in the inner walls of the berg our whole lives.

  Inside the inner berg wall was quite expansive with many gardens, a cherry orchard, stables, pastures, houses, towers, and the main hall. Not to mention, Castle Ryne, named to honor the spirit of the dark, where Daria, me, and the rest of our family lived. The children of nobility who lived within the walls of the inner berg never left. Sometimes it would get so boring. The temptation of what it was like on the other side was so tantalizing. It filled us with curiosity. Going over the wall without permission and an escort was against the rules.

  A few years ago, Yorunn and I gave in to temptation and sneaked past the wall alone, wearing the guise of a servant. I even outsmarted Geir. We managed to get past the one wall but didn’t make it too far before we were caught by Master Clovis and Geir. They were none too pleased. My father was none too pleased either, when he found out, and gave us both a stern lecture, followed by the switch.

  I had one more month until I would be fully sixteen and introduced into society at my Coming of Age Ceremony. Then I would be able to go where ever and whenever I pleased, to an extent.

  “Can’t we peer over the wall for a bit? I really want to see what th
ose northerners look like, don’t you?” she asked.

  Her question nagged at my curiosity. I did want to know what they looked like, but, more, I wanted to see the people who hated my people so much.

  “Do you think they are still there?” I asked.

  “Most likely. I think,” Daria said.

  “I bet I can beat you to the top,” Yorunn said to me and Frey.

  “Ha! I doubt it,” Frey said.

  “No.” Geir’s steady voice caused everyone to turn and look at him. “We should head back to the castle.” He looked at me.

  “I swear, I won’t go over. We have one more hour before we have to dress for dinner. I just want to look,” I said back.

  I needed to see them. The only information I was ever told, what we all were ever told, was that a feud had started about twenty decades ago between the Mielondic King and our Cempa. My grandfather. There was some sort of contract that was breached, which caused many battles between us and our northern neighbors. The King of Mielond and The Cempa had come to a truce. They agreed to leave each other alone, but other Mielonders still held a grudge. With aelven kind living roughly a thousand years the animosity could still feel fresh.

  Recently, some of our patrolmen had arrested a group of Mielonders for harassing a small village near the border. It's my guess that the meeting was about giving the prisoners back to the northerners.