Paralia

• Alexis Gerassimou, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2009

Prologue
The sun was reflecting off the chains joining the prisoners together, blinding anyone who looked at them. The heavy metal of the chains burnt the skin of the soon to be slaves while the harsh summer sun beat down on their backs. It was reaching midday and the convoy of prisoners were about to enter the slave market gates on the outskirts of the city of Ruteo.

Malakov, a tall, thin boy, looked around as the slave master hustled all the new arrivals into the courtyard. The large wooden gates closed behind the last of the prisoners, making it feel even hotter. Cheering and the sound of metal hitting metal could be heard from somewhere within the courtyard. Malakov, provoked by curiosity, made his way through the crowd to a dirt fighting ring, where a slave and a solider were fighting with swords. The slave in the fighting ring put up his hand in defeat and the slave master shouted for anyone else who was willing to impress the royal group to step forward. Malakov looked at the brightly dressed group on the other side of the ring who were surely the royals. The slave master shouted again for any further volunteers, and quietly Malakov entered the ring.

Eleven Years Later
Dawn was breaking and the sky was slowly changing colours as the sun started to rise above the horizon. A captain of the royal army stood outside on the watch tower, gazing at the sky and listening to the kitchen boys chop wood for the stoves. General Conrad slowly approached Captain Malakov and quietly stood next to him. After a few minutes of silence, the general turned to Malakov.
“Come on boy, one of the young lads came with a message that King Asriel wanted to see us this morning before we leave.”
General Conrad had taken a liking to Malakov ever since the day he went with the king to the slave markets to recruit young men for the royal army. He remembered seeing an eight year old boy walk into the fighting ring and take the sword given to him. He also remembered the fluid movements of Malakov’s body as he fought the trained solider. Conrad, who was only a captain at the time, had to look twice at the scene before him because he couldn’t believe his eyes. Now, standing in front of him was a tall, broad-shouldered, nineteen year old man with the darkest hair and eyes in the kingdom. The general turned and walked away, and Captain Malakov quietly followed.

Malakov was greeted by the stable master as he followed King Asriel and General Conrad into the stable yard. He made his way to the stable that housed his jet black stallion, Caspian. Caspian had already been saddled for the journey to the coast realm of Paralia. As Malakov was leading Caspian out of the stable, Prince Zedekiah came up to him. Closely following the prince was a thin eleven year old boy, with golden hair and bright blue eyes, named Ace.
“So Zed, this boy is the reason we’re going to Paralia?” mumbled Malakov as he rustled the boy’s hair. The captain and prince had become best friends shortly after Malakov arrived at the palace. Prince Zed did not have time to answer his friend since his father had called them both. The two boys left Ace with the horse and joined the two older men.
“Conrad and Malakov, I want you both to guard the boy with your lives. Make sure nothing happens to him. And make sure nothing happens to my own son as well,” instructed Asriel in a voice just above a whisper. Before long, the entire party was on their horses and setting out of Ruteo, towards Paralia.

It had been almost a week and a half since they had left Ruteo. The group of four had been travelling from sunrise to sunset. The journey so far had been quiet. Captain Malakov looked out towards the horizon and knew that within a couple of days they would be arriving at the gates of Paralia. He could see the coast and the silhouette of the famous city walls that had protected the city many times throughout its history. As camp was being made, Malakov felt as though his body was telling him that something unpleasant was going to happen.

It was nearing midday, and all was quiet except for the heavy breathing of both humans and horses. Malakov kept his eyes on the city, he could not tear his gaze from it, they were almost there. A shout of pain came from behind him, and he spun around in his saddle to see two masked men trying to grab hold of Ace. Malakov turned his horse around and pulled his sword from its sheath.
“Conrad and Zed, get out of here you fools, they’re desert rats, go now,” shouted Malakov as he forced his horse into a gallop.
The two desert men had almost unsaddled Ace. Malakov swiped at the first man with his sword, cutting him deeply. He turned on the second who was holding Ace’s arm. Ace aimlessly tried to kick the man. Malakov drew up alongside the man and cleanly cut off the man’s unguarded arm. The man let go of Ace, screaming in pain.
“Ace, run the horse as fast as it can go,” Malakov barked, following Ace and keeping his eyes peeled for other masked men.
In the distance Conrad and Zed were nearing the city gates, and a group of Paralians were streaming out of the entrance to the city.

When Malakov and Ace finally arrived at the city gates, Malakov slid off his horse, then helped Ace down. A large man and a petite woman, both dressed in elaborate clothes, came running forward and embraced Ace with tears of happiness running down their faces.
“Well, the king and queen seem happy to see their runaway son, don’t they?” smiled Prince Zed.
“I-I-I guess . . . what?” stammered Captain Malakov and General Conrad.