The Lost King
Prologue
The air outside the castle walls were quiet and still, a little too quiet. Most of the castle's inhabitant's were asleep, others were running about doing their errands before turning in for the night, others who kept a watchful eye out. The King lay asleep in his bedchamber, his guards keeping watch over him.
He was a well loved King, loved by his subjects across the land, well-liked by other royalty whom he dealt with. He was in the prime of his years, his wife passed away many years ago leaving him with his five sons. It isn't important to know all the names of his son's save one, Phillip.
Phillip was a precocious boy, the youngest of the five only six years old. His mother had passed away bringing him into this world. The King loved all his sons but Phillip had a special place in his heart, and in his brothers' hearts. Being the youngest of the five, they protected him fiercely.
Even though the King was a popular King, there were grumblings within his kingdom. Some who did not share the others' enlightened view of him. One of these enemies was a powerful one and dangerous. He would set in motion the events of tonight and the start of our story.
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A guard turned his attention to the moat, he had heard a small splashing sound. He looked over the black water, tracing the concentric circles to their source, a duck. Must have been startled in its sleep. He had been scanning the waters so he failed to see black figures climbing up the castle wall, hidden by the shadows. They climbed the wall like spiders splitting up into different directions. They climbed into windows, taking out guards quietly, stealthily. The attack might have gone unnoticed except for one thing. The King's eldest son had been entertaining one of the chamber maids and her screams awoke the entire castle.
In an instant, the castle went from serene inactivity to panicky chaos. Shouts of "Protect the King! Protect the King!" filled the air. The King's door burst open, an old man rushing in.
"Your Majesty! It's an ambush!" he shouted.
"Protect my sons, Artemus. Leave me to defend my castle," the King ordered as he dressed. The old man raced out of the room but in his place a young man walked in. He was dark haired no more than 17 summers old. The King looked up and acknowledged the young man's presence.
"Thomas," the King nodded to him. Thomas was Artemus' apprentice. "Hide yourself, do not seek out this battle. It is no place for a young wizard."
"You are right, my King. This is no place for a young wizard," he said steadily as he approached him.
The King had only a moment to realize the situation, the absence of the guards, he alone with the boy in his chamber. He made the movement for his sword but the young boy drew his first, plunging it into the King's chest. The King let out a scream of pain and rage. The boy moved close to the King, pushing the sword deeper as his face was centimeters from his.
"Your sons are all dead, your reign has ended," Thomas sneered.
The King drew shallow breaths, giving the young man a small smile. "You will never sit on the throne of Gryffindor as long as I live."
"Very well," the man said pulling his sword from the King's chest then in one swing beheading him.
Thomas let out a shout of victory then bent down to take the crown off the King's head. But before he could touch it, it disappeared, along with the King's sword.
"No!" he shouted then ran out of the room.
Down, down, down the stairs he went, leaving the tower. He raced to the main hall where the throne room was just as the doors to the room closed with a loud thud.
"NO!" Thomas screamed. He drew out a wand and tried every incantation he could to open the door but nothing worked. The heavy oak doors stayed shut and locked. Intricate drawings carved upon him, ancient words scrolled upon it, and in the middle was the outline of a sword. Thomas ran to the castle's entrance hall where statues of the King's forefathers stood. In the middle of the hall stood a white marble statue of a beautiful woman, a lion at her feet as she sat, the King's sword gleaming in her lap. He needed the sword to unlock the door. Thomas reached out to take the sword but the moment his fingers touched it, a searing shock of pain went through him. Only a true Gryffindor could touch that sword as long as they thrived. Thomas had tried to avoid this from happening by killing the King's sons. But his plan must have failed somewhere for someone was still alive. As he thought this he heard the shouts of his mean and the galloping of hooves.
Phillip was awoken by the screams of a woman somewhere nearby. He climbed under his bed and shook in fear. The door to his room opened and he immediately recognized the feet of his brother.
"Antony!" the six year old boy shouted and scrambled out from under the bed. The little boy could hear the screams of people in the castle, the shouts of mean and the clanging of swords.
"Come, we must run!" Antony shouted. He grabbed his younger brother and ran through the halls. Antony knew his eldest brother was dead, so he ran for his younger ones. He sought Phillip first then moved on to the other two. However, as he and Phillip ran down the hall, they saw one of them lying dead on the floor, heard the screams of the other as well. It was only the two of them. They scurried down the stairs but found they were trapped on both ends of the stairwell. Antony drew his sword to defend themselves but wand blasts took care of that for him. The old wizard, Artemus was running for them.
"Come! Come quickly!" he shouted to them.
They had reached the King's stables, Artemus climbing atop a majestic white one. Antony handed his younger brother to him. He was just about to climb atop of his when he heard the whiz of an arrow and a sharp pain in his side. He turned and saw traitors had reached the stables.
"Go! Take Phillip!" he told the old man and slapped the horse to take off.
"Antony!" he heard his youngest brother cry out.
Antony turned and drew his sword to face the onslaught.
Thomas raced out of the great hall to see the old wizard riding away on a white horse below him.
"Stop him!" he shouted to his followers. "STOP! HIM!"
Arrows flew at the wizard as he made his way across the courtyard to the castle gates.
"Close the gates!! Raise the drawbridge!" he shouted.
The wizard made it past the gates but was stopped at the drawbridge that was rising too quickly. He was trapped, the small boy cried in his arms.
Antony stumbled into a room by the gate, killing the traitor that was there. The gate keeper lay dead on the floor. He knew he didn't have long to live, his wounds were fatal. He collapsed on the floor but drawing the last of his strength he crawled across the floor to the chained wheel. He reached for the lever and used the weight of his dying body to pull it. The drawbridge lowered and the wizard galloped away from the castle.
Thomas saw him gallop away and fell to his knees on the balcony floor. "NO! NO! NO!"
He had no chance of getting into the throne room, for there was an ancient spell protecting the throne of Gryffindor. Only the King's blood may sit upon its throne, its doors would remain shut until the true heir to the throne claimed it.
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