Monday, October 21, 2013

Rise of Oliria Chapter one Sneak Peek

Chapter One
First Encounter with Death
Courage shapes your beginning; determination leads to your alternate ending.”
~~~Oliria year 2115 A. D. ~~~
Where is my wife!?”  King Thomas asked, racing through the halls with his six-year-old daughter clutched to his right arm. Several Olirian guards made way for the king whose wife had minutes to spare. “Where is she?” he hissed, with his blood boiling over, prepared to attack anyone in sight. He traveled a few more steps, and soon both he and Princess Jinálie were in front of the door that led to their sick loved one.
They entered the room and saw a woman with blood shot eyes, lying helplessly in the hospital bed. The princess watched by the door as her father ran over to his wife.  Jinálie knew that the pale woman was her mother only because the door had her name assigned, yet this woman with tubes running into her nose was somehow a stranger in her eyes.
Princess Jinálie noticed the whine of the life-support machine. The sound unsettled her, causing her to feel troubled. She suspended her mind from reality as she approached the figure in the bed, and she reached out to her mother’s weakened hands. Those hands, which once held her firmly when she took her first steps, could now barely move.
The little girl leaned over, forcing herself into her mother’s line of vision. The queen opened her eyes and looked into her daughter’s startled face. Jinálie couldn’t bear seeing the woman with the world’s most lively soul perish.
A tear escaped from the little girl’s eye and landed on her mother’s hand. The queen looked at her daughter with intensity and said in a weak voice, “Take my locket from my neck; it will guide you through life.” Jinálie shook her head while backing away from the bed and holding on to the edge of a table. The queen saw the pain in her daughter’s eyes and signaled King Thomas to help take off the silver locket.  
“Here, take this,” the woman murmured, “and promise me when you become queen to trust both your heart and mind.”  
Jinálie nodded meekly and went over to grab the locket. “I promise to become a good ruler, just don’t leave me,” she shouted with tears flying out her eyes.  At the strike of the tenth hour the queen released her daughter’s hand and said her last words, “Remember that I love you and you will always be my Jinálie.”                     
A long beep sounded from the heart monitor.
**
Several hours passed. Nighttime was near. Thick sheets of icy water fell from the dark clouded sky and covered the rich soil as if it mourned the queen’s passing. The royals left when the doctor pronounced the dreaded news. King Thomas rechecked his wife’s pulse thirty times before accepting the undeniable truth.
He exited the hospital with the princess, close to his side.  The royals slowly got into their limo.  King Thomas signaled the chauffeur to leave.
“Jinálie, how are you feeling?” he said.
His daughter peeked outside the window. She had cried for hours and wanted something to clear her mind. She saw the thin fog covering the distant hills, enhancing their glory, and the rain falling down on the emerald grass.
“I need to fill up on Lirmess gas,” the limo driver said, lowering the privacy window and interrupting Jinálie’s thought process. 
King Thomas shook his head. The inexpensive Lirmess gas was made from the elements air, water and fire, through patented technology. It was rarely needed for Olirian cars, but of course, out of anyone, his limo driver would forget to check the gas gauge.
“You should have done this while you were waiting,” the King said, irritated.
The chauffeur apologized for his ignorance and drove fast to the gas station.  He hurried down the highway roads, dodging vehicles and beeping his horn.  A white arrow pointed towards the empty fuel symbol. He had a few miles before the limo stopped moving. The chauffeur pressed down on the gas pedal, trying to gain speed, but to his dismay, a rushing wind collected dirt from the ground and threw it to the limo’s windshield. The chauffeur couldn’t see the road ahead. He heard a loud horn, warning him of the potential danger. Sweat fell from his forehead. He forced the steering wheel to the left, guiding the limo back to the right lane.
The chauffeur steadied his hands as the mud cleared from the windshield. “Hold on,” he shouted, activating the magnetic wheels. The vehicle gripped the road and continued moving on the straight path. The chauffeur smiled. He drove faster and faster, without warning.
“What is the meaning of this?” King Thomas shouted, holding his daughter close.
The chauffeur looked back at the royals and said, “I’m about to run out of—”
“Watch out!” Jinálie shouted, pointing toward an eighteen wheeler truck.
The chauffeur planted his foot on the brake but it malfunctioned. He steered to the right, hoping to avoid an accident.
The windows fogged, blocking all view to the outside.  Both Jinálie and King Thomas closed their eyes in hopes of staying alive.
“Hold on,” the chauffeur said, activating the wheel reflux levers, which were only used when traveling under 100 mph. The limo slid to left, avoiding the collision against the massive truck. It continued to glide across the road until it reached pump number three at the Lirmess gas station.
The chauffeur exited the vehicle and filled the tank. King Thomas leaped out of the car.
“What purpose did that serve?” he shouted, boiling over with rage, “we could have been killed.”
“I’m sorry King Thomas,” the limo driver said.
“Sorry isn’t good enough. Expect to see your last paycheck this weekend.”
The chauffeur waved his hands around, pleading for his job. “King Thomas,” he said, “don’t fire me.  I just lost my mind after the queen’s death, that’s all.”
The royals hired him out of pity. He was a clumsy fellow at times, forgetting to do even the most basic things like rolling up his window when it rained, putting on his seat belt, or turning the auto drive off while he drove manually. King Thomas had it up to Igno (The tallest Olirian Mountain) with this man. He wanted to fire him ages ago, but Queen Aerelina insisted on giving the chauffeur another chance. After all, she knew how it felt to be different, having been diagnosed with a rare lung disease.
“Get it together lad,” King Thomas said, frustrated, nearly ripping out his perfectly trimmed whiskers.
The driver cleared his throat, straightened his back and lowered his hands. “I’ll get my act right, but I’m begging of you, please don’t fire me.”
King Thomas sighed. He could never stay angry at anyone. “For some strange reason,” he said, “I can’t get myself to fire you. Probably because of my wife, she loved your driving.” He rubbed his head to cool off.  His dark hair had a strip of white, making him look older than thirty-three. After this incident, every hair on his skin might turn white, like the broken bones he almost received.
“Very well,” he said, standing tall, and raising his rectangular chin in the air, “I will spare you this moment, but take us to the castle safely, that is an order. Now that the queen has passed, Jinálie is the only heir to Oliria.”
“I will your majesty, even if it means till death, I will honor your wishes,” the chauffeur said, bowing.


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