My book idea

 

I had an idea of a book called The Deamon Princess (and yes I spelt like that) If the first chapter goes down well i'll write more and one chapter why it's like De-A-mon

 

 

The Time Chronicles

Book 1

 

The Deamon Princess

 

CH1 Starting point

 

 

A hooded figure in a velvet cloak crept across the blackness of the castle, or stronghold as it was named by its first masters, which lay on a large flat face hill in the middle of the surrounding mountains that grew tall around it In massive tall spikes.

The figure crept forward, past the black stone walls covered with moss and grime, careful not to be heard.

 

He came at a stop at a lone white marble door, standing out from the rest of its black steel brothers.  The knob was ruby and diamond encrusted, in the shape of a wolf’s head, it was snarling as if to scare off intruders; a white hand with long, curving black nails slid from under the velvet cloak, reaching for the knob.

His freakishly white hand glowed; anyone watching would be staring in fear, thinking, Vampire, or any other pale creature from your darkest and strangest of all nightmares.

 

Suddenly loud footsteps could be heard, the hooded figure ducked back into the shadows as a rabbit would sprint back into its hole.

A woman walked past, skin, color of violets, with bright blue eyes. Her nails were cracked and worn, her hair was dirty and unwashed, particularly greasy state; it made the woman’s white hair look like a mat of brown speckles with streaks of black.

She wore a long Burgundy and white dress; which quite suited her posture altogether.

The hooded stranger began to move back to the door as she was no threat, being a lowly maid.

Once she had gone the hooded figure returned to the door, long white ears pricked up, listening inattentively.

A golden eye lit up in the darkness, Along with a purple-blue on the opposite side, but the tips of his smoky black hair concealed the rest of the pale complexion of a face.

Behind the door was a grand room of priceless paintings and artifacts, it was, the meeting room or um… sometimes piano recitals, at New Years Eve, but usually meetings that lasted about drawling three hours where everyone was either sleeping on the tables or helping themselves to each other’s pocket contents, no-one was really that trustworthy in this realm, or rather they were trustworthy to be untrustworthy.

 

The meeting room was tall and grand, there were tables and chairs of highest value, many made of solid gold, some silver and platinum others ruby, well, Ruby did seem to be the dominating gem in the whole room.

The truth was their were in awe at all the gemstones which lay beneath the soil, many life’s mission was to find the biggest ruby, the dragon stone, but many hopes were dwindled when scientist proved the existence to lie beneath earth’s crust.

 

There was a wooden platform, A aging man in fine velvet black robes stood on it, his hands covered with gemmed rings, from his neck drooped a diamond, black, which sparkled in the darkness.

Behind him was a massive waterfall fountain, thing, it was hard to describe, and yet so beautiful and majestic, nobody would have guessed that it’s crystal waters lead straight down to the dark and bone-filled crypt that lay beneath the stronghold.

 

He also wore a crown, for he was King Luthmoor, one of the greatest kings of Deamon history, but he was weakened and thousands of years old, the last battle with the basilisks had gone wrong he had poison with no known cure injected into his leg; he was definitely a dying man.

The war had started with numerous attacks on fellow innocents, none that posed any threat to the basilisk king who lay east across the mountain land in a fiery prison.

Luthmoor decided that if his warning was ignored, more blood would be shed; he already guessed, as his adviser, who was a gifted prophet told him; the drawing of his blood will bring the beginning of the end for him.

His body did not work as fine as he wanted it to anymore…

 

He recalled the events in the war leading up to that point,

King Luthmoor was in his tent fitting his armor on, which shined and glittered in a strange sort of way, like diamond dust that fell in moonlight.

His elfin ears started to twitch as his Deamon senses made him uneasy, screaming was heard, about, as Luthmoor guessed, five hundred meters away, and closing in, fast.

He looked outside as others ran, mainly Deamons filled with cowardice and fear, “But...” Luthmoor thought “Many were young, not even Deamons five hundred years of age remember a war so gruesome and violent.

He took out his broadsword, ready to slice at any moment, hissing came from all around him, Alkyia ran beside him, “Is it truly him?” she panted clasping her old heart.

“Unfortunately I think so.” He replied in awe, he had never seen anything like it.

A trail of red smoke was coming closer and closer, everything was sliced and destroyed half-dead in its path as its venom on the tip of its tongue paralyzed them.

Horses whinnied as they struggled to escape from their bindings, animals left the area much hope was being lost...

The smoke cleared as a huge venomous basilisk was seen, its scales were fiery red and the huge orbs for eyes were violent green, Alkyia slid out her bow, “You are no king!” she shouted and fired at its eyes, one of the arrows hit, the other went flying into the heart of a shadow dragon, the basilisk’s dark minions, which was flying straight towards her in great speed and distance.

“You...” the enormous Basilisk growled, “Will die as I take this land, AS I AM KING OF THE BASILISKS!” He screamed in one breath.

They were known to be extremely vain in their words.

Alkyia laughed at this, “Is this how it is?” She moved closer towards the huge reptile, “I was just getting started.”

Alkyia took out her long sword, whispering an enchantment as she ran to pierce the chest of the laughing beast, a burst of flame consumed her as she became nothing more than ash. Other shadow Dragons became the same way as King Luthmoor sliced and cut at their skin, When he saw the ash before the basilisk king he moaned in despair, was it any use?

This was a great foe; alive since ancient times where Queen Asyereth 2nd ruled the land; would he be able to defeat it?

The Basilisk king took a bite at him, and as he did Luthmoor jumped; he just about managed to land on the scaly head, immediately he started piercing the snake’s skull.

The creature moaned and hissed violently as he did so causing hairs to stand up on Luthmoor’s back, Deamons always hated to destroy anything earthen.

The Basilisk king swung his head up, Luthmoor slipped and fell to the ground, several important pieces of armor were shattered.

“Right.” He panted; every breath was draining his energy, “Last option then.”

“You have no last options,” The giant snake smiled wickedly, all of its sharp fangs were showing in a menacing way, getting closer and closer with every second passing by.

 

“You’re wrong, too bad.” Luthmoor shouted as out of all the chaos, the stupid oaf would not hear him anyway, basilisks preferred to listen to their own words, not their enemies.

Luthmoor’s eyes became blue fire, his skin started to become fur as his morphing began, as painful as it sounded Deamon magic suppressed most of it, transfiguration was part of their biological nature, which made them survive in almost any situation.

Most Deamons had their “Soul Animal” that ranged from the tiny squeaking mouse to the ancient dragons that once lived in the mountains all those years ago. What used to be Luthmoor was now a giant red wolf, wolves were the sign of royals, thus, it was easier to find an heir if there were no blood relations. But Luthmoor was, so far, the last, which saddened him, it made his final decision ever more difficult.  Luthmoor’s paws were heavily clawed and white veins were seen around his muzzle; he was old after all.

The basilisk king screamed, Luthmoor saw his chance and bit into the beast’s soft neck, blood dripped down fast, but not all of it was the creature’s, one of the basilisks venomous fangs were lodged in his back leg in a final attack to destroy them both, together.

He knew someday this would come...         

 

In front of him stood an audience, King Luthmoor spoke in a clear, calm and most of all, crisp voice. “Now my council” his audience or rather “Council” as he called them stopped talking. “As you are aware I am a dying man” “There is no heir who is willing to take my place and I cannot force them” “Too true” called the council.

They had found one whose blood traces were faint but still there, grudgingly he declined the offer, saying he would rather serve than rule.

“What do you propose to do to keep law and order?” asked a silver haired man in the crowd, loudly and rudely.

The king answered in a grand and mighty voice “I propose we give the lost heirs a chance, after a week, if they are not found or do not agree, then the throne will be given to Azza, head of the DPF or whoever is head at that point of time.”

The council paused, then eventually, after consideration of this proposition, agreed, some got out papers and dust filled files to take down notes and read the information which was included.

In these files contained all the information needed for newcomers about ‘The Lost Heirs’.

“Now” the king said quickly, time was running scarce, “MuMaska would you like to share anything with us?”

“Yes King Luthmoor” a deep voice replied, which sounded like a throttle or drone of an engine; A beast with a wolfen body but with horses legs stood up, it looked like a cross between a werewolf and a Centaur.

The true name for this kind of Deamon was the Wyv Vinch, they were uncommon but still a considerable amount of the population had this “mixed” form.

Its fur was a dark grey; eyes were amber yellow and shone like the sun on a hot summer’s day, the arms huge and muscular.

 

“What have you seen old friend?” the king enquired. “The lost heirs in this city, one already among us.” He whispered softly, voice seeming different than the last “Drone”

 People gasped, shocked, others looked around suspicious of everyone around them, “How can this be?”piped up a woman with green and blue hair tied up in a bun along while wearing a military uniform, she was also holding the Rid 2070; asking loudly “I am head of Deamon Security you just can’t get past my cameras without major help!”

A murmur of agreement, Lanton security was the best there was.

She sat down immediately to spare the embarrassment of being the first to object to the king’s word.

The silver haired man stood up “What about the skeleton, we haven’t heard on him for months!”

 Two men got up, one was muscular and beefy, he was also the darkest shade a human could get, Black is what the humans called it, but that wasn’t entirely correct, anyway Deamon’s skin could go blacker. The other, tall dark and skinny his eyes were red and sharp and he was the palest of the pale, his features practically screamed vampire, most worrying of all he looked like he hadn’t eaten for months.

 

The muscular one shouted “That is not the Deamon Police Force’s fault, the skeleton is known on the streets, and people help him!”

“So?!” the silver man shouted back loudly, trying to make the crowd turn on the beefy man. “You are the D.P.F, the most powerful of all demon organizations, you are telling me you can’t catch a dead body?!”

The muscular one shouted back again, angrily “He can move, think, talk, and he is of Magi!”

The silver man sneered back “I think you should be more forceful Azza, your precious organization is slipping a bit, maybe if you let your lieutenant head of the DPF maybe things would be quite different!”

“You mean let him and his kind fill the streets with blood? I don’t think so.” Azza replied sharply, Azza glared at his rival, Ochire had always tried to think of a way he would be the better Deamon for the D.P.F than Azza.

 

MuMaska groaned and rolled his bright yellow amber eyes, “Luthmoor is dying and you are squabbling over the skeleton!” he then trotted up to them, his copper hooves keeping the beat, and whispered gently “Heed my words it is the jaguar you have to have to worry about.” Wolfen eyes were blazing in a glare.

 

There was more squabble, fights started, Azza taking on Ochire, both had been to the gym lately, so it was pretty evenly matched.

None of the Deamons in the room had noticed that MuMaska had whispered to Azza and Ochire, the fights had broken out way before that.

 

Rashance, the D.P.F lieutenant wandered around the hall, ducking and diving every so often, Deamons were more civilized than their cousins “The Demons”But still had a bloodthirsty battle every so often in their lives.

Fixing his jet black hair, Rashance turned around to face the stage which King Luthmoor was standing moments before, People started to scream in realization as Luthmoor collapsed into the pool of now red water behind him.

 

The council started to move out, the figure outside started to run, Azza had appeared right behind him and shouted in surprise then followed him, the figure came to an open window, there was nowhere to run, the drop was 500m high; Azza asked the figure “who are you?”

The figure moved back smiling, sharp fangs protruded from his thin mouth “I am the air, yet the wind, fire yet ice, water and earth, you may call me part of your dull, dimwitted imagination, but beware, I am watching, for I have watched you for years as well as others... ” Azza looked at his now nightmarish, gold eyes,

“What are you?” He gasped.

The figure jumped from the open window, curtains in shreds, and glass lay shattered on the ground

Azza looked out the window the figure was gone, would he have survived that jump?

It looked suicidal at a great height of one hundred meters, but still...he knew those words, muttered by a known being, he had better check with Jaroi, the palace alchemist, who strangely, even though he studied nothing but Chemistry in his university years knew a lot on Historical events, Azza guessed a History teacher role would greatly match his dull, aged appearance, which everyone muttered behind his back about.

 

Past the small buildings a howling could be heard a small lizard eyes glinting in the light of the caves ran back home, scuttling out of sight, its fiery scales glinting as it moved from rock to rock from limestone to limestone in a continuous fashion.