The Time Capsule

Chapter Four: The Palace of Ice

Chapter Four: 

It was the first time in three years that the man from the mines had risen into the harsh sunlight, so it wasn't surprising that he shielded his eyes and stumbled back, only to be pushed harshly forward by guards clad in iron. Both were carrying shields with a coat of arms, unlike any the man had ever seen, except a brief flash when he was shoved into the mines in the first place. The pattern spiraled out in three different directions, a horrible, twisted face in the center with a smooth beard, suave, slicked back hair and missing one eye. Words written in cursive Latin read 'long will he reign.' 

"You will be escorted to King Morgan of the Dark Moors on account of treachery against the throne, resulting in the death of eleven of your fellow miners," the guard with a deep voice announced, reading from an extremely long scroll, presumably of other's punishments. "If the defendant has nothing to say against the claim of stealing dynamite from the dwarfs of the mines, the defendant is ruled as guilty, and will be executed by sundown." 

"Like hell I will!" the man burst out in a sudden fury, sweat dripping from his brow as he struggled from the guard's hold, worriedly thinking of his family, and if he would ever make it back to them. "I have not seen the sunlight for three years! And I'm *not* giving up this revolution, I'm *not* giving up the air and sky. I never thought I'd see it again. I am going nowhere with you, and you can tell that directly to your king." 

"Like hell I will!" the man burst out in a sudden fury, sweat dripping from his brow as he struggled from the guard's hold, worriedly thinking of his family, and if he would ever make it back to them. "I haven't seen the sunlight for three years! And I'm *not* giving up this revolution, I'm *not* giving up the air and the sky. I never thought I'd see it again. I am going nowhere with you, and you can tell that directly to your king."

The guards looked at each other, communicating silently, and the man could hardly believe his luck as they started to walk in another direction. Were they letting him go? He turned to the young boy covered in soot, who was standing next to him after dropping off his mine cart. He brushed his hands free of dirty coal and drank in the sunlight, giving a small smile. 

"Come with me, lad," the man said, extending a hand. "Did you hear that? They're letting me go. Here-what's your name?"

"Grayson Smith," the boy replied. "Only got here weeks ago- from Shadowstream."

"Shadowstream?" the man instantly changed, his eyes growing wide, but before he could ask more- a guard approached them again. 

The boy suddenly looked quite terrified, his eyes growing wide with fear as he toppled to the ground. The iron knight's double ended sword clashed through his chest, lifting the boy up off the ground for all to see, then yanked the blade out, leaving a deep, running mark. The red started to spread all over the boy's chest as the man screamed out in pain and fury, the boy crumpling to the ground, his skin fading with the Earth as the sun sank behind a cloud. 

"You bastards," the man shook, breathing heavily. "He was your prisoner! You sick, twisted bastards!" 

"Do we make ourselves clear?" the guard sneered. "We do not have the time to waste on the blood of the innocents." 

The man was still heaving for breath as he was clapped in iron handcuffs that spread from his hands to his shoulders, forcing his arms behind him in a horribly painful way. And so, heartbroken and extremely pissed off, the man followed the guards to the Ice Palace of the Dark Moors. But this time, the sun wasn't a blessing. 

This time, the sun burned like hell. 

.....

The Moors were generally feared across all the lands, not just Shadowstream. The Ice Palace was forbidden in Elf Language, on the list of banned words in the forest. If not for the fact that they were indeed very creepy with scraggly trees filled with horrible creatures, and even more evil people living on top of the gorge that overlooked everything. And, of course, there was the powerful man in charge of it all. Morgan.