Swords clashed, the sound of metal against metal echoed off the brick wall surrounding the enclose; laughter followed.
"Oh come on Rehia you can do better than that. Hit me!" a gruff voice called out over the clash of metal.
Rehia Carrick thrust harder, her sword flashing forward. Strands of red gold hair hung loosely in her eyes, she refused to brush them back. Grunting she parried an attack thrust at her by her sword master Gerrick.
A page rushed into the practice area, his breath coming in uneven gasps. He bent over, hands resting on his knees. "Rehia." He gasped, "Your father, he needs you."
The smile slipped from her face, her sword slipped into her sheath. With a quick glance to Gerrick, she took off towards the castle. Her leather boots thumped against wooden bridge, her long hair flew behind her. The guards stood to attention as she passed, the creak of armor followed in her wake. She crashed into a servant carrying a load of wash, "your highness" a startled voice yelped, the clothes scattered across the floor.
Rehia quickly gathered all the clothes and shoved them into the woman's arms, "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I must go." She took off once more, her lungs burned; her legs screamed from the strain, sweat adorned her forehead like a salty crown.
Bursting through the ornate wooden door, she flew to her father's bedside. His pale pasty skin stood out starkly against the dark sheets. Dark shadows curved under his eyes, his lips were cracked and bleeding, his breath whistled heavily through his lungs.
"My daughter." His voice rasped, pausing he coughed, "come closer." Rehia kneeled closer to the bed.
"You must" he coughed once more, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand,
"you must go to the elves, get the sword of Mlandiral. The dark lord rises in the east." He leaned back against the bed, the snatched up her wrist.
"Your mark." He rasped once more, her birthmark stood our against her pale skin, a swirl of black ink dipped along the length of her back. It trailed up her neck to behind her ears; where it disappeared beneath her hairline.
"You are Illewen, protector of men. The dark lord raises his army; he will soon march over this land, destroying everything we know. You must get the sword, it is rightfully yours. The prophecy deems you our protector." He coughed, blood trickled from the corners of his mouth.
Rehia fell back, her eyes wide, mouth unhinged. "I-I don't believe it, any of it. No!" She scrambled up and bolted from the room. Running blindly down the halls she slammed into an invisible wall, falling to the floor with a grunt. She glared up at the castles mage, Nimbus.
"Was that necessary?" Rehia bit out, he bowed, the sleeves of burgundy robes brushing the stone floor.
"Your highness, please come with me." he swept into a room, snowy hair glittering. Bracing her palms on the floor, she pushed herself up. Her body ached with exhaustion. Stumbling into his room, he gestured to a wooden chair, with a relieved sigh Rehia fell onto it ungracefully propping her head on her elbow.
Nimbus dropped a thick book onto the table before her, jarring her elbow, slamming her head onto the table. Rehia moaned, holding her head, "Really Nimbus, do you always have to injure me."
Nimbus shook his head, licking the tip of his finger he flipped through the many aged pages. The ancient script work fluidly crossed the pages. "Ahh" he made an agreeable noise.
Sliding the book in front of her, he tapped the page with his finger, "read."
Rehia's eyes flitted across the page, "what is this?" he tapped the page again,
"Read your highness." She pushed back the loose locks of hair,
"Alright alright, no need to be pushy." She placed a finger and began reading, her head began to spin.
The Prophecy of One this shall be
She shall save all that will be
With a heart of gold
She shall win
Heed the call
Or the world will dim
The sword shall choose
Its rightful heir
One to die
For the other to live
The Prophecy of One this shall be
Placing her head in her hands, she groaned, "fine. I shall leave in the morning. Have Shadow ready by dawn." She slammed her palm on to the wooden desk and left in a rush of red gold waves and clenched fists.
Entering her room, she undid her sword at her belt and laid it on her bed. Leaning against the wall next to the curved window, she crossed her arms against her chest. Only an hour ago she was happily practicing with Gerrick, now she prepared to leave for Famisia, the Elven forest.
With a ragged sigh, she climbed between the sheets of her bed and slipped into a deep fitful sleep.