I got this idea a while ago now, i don't think i'll publish this story, but it was too good for me to discard! So, i am going to write it as a sort of hobby story. No copying; it's not cool. Please comment and give me tips on how i can improve, and enjoy! 
Chapter 1
Sakra was led down the cold and shady, stone hallway in chains. The last time he had been captured was when he was much younger, but even then he wasn't handcuffed, let alone chained. It seemed the guards thought of him as very dangerous and didn't want to take any chances. Two guards in full, steel armor with swords strapped to their waist assorted him, one on each side. A lesser guard with only a knife and leather armor held the chains that secured Sakra's hands behind his back. And yet another lesser guard walked a couple of paces in front of the group, leading them up from the dungeon to some other place in the castle. Talk about paranoid.
Sakra sighed, slightly irritated. It was only dumb luck they had caught him, the one night he was staying at an inn. 'Next time i'll be sure to stay away from inn's.' he thought sarcastically to himself. As he marched, Sakra gazed down at his shoes, well, more like black, strong cloth wrapped securely around his feet, holding the soft but strong bark of the jalla tree to the soles of his feet. He wore a sleeveless top, black pants, and a heavy duty, though light belt, which usually held his high quality knives, a couple of bombs, smoke screen bombs, a pouch, and a rope. Unfortunately, they had been confiscated by a grumpy guard. Sakra also wore sturdy gloves, which, without the guards knowing, had tiny, special hooks on them that he had created, that enabled him to climb walls, trees and rocks with ease. They also had small knives tucked in them still.
Sakra thought as he was escorted up a flight of stairs, his mind whirring as he tried to come up with an escape plan. But none came to him that didn't involve killing the soldiers, sending the alarm off or running around with his hand behind his back. His thoughts faded as they rounded a corner, revealing a room at the end of a hallway, with it's tall, golden doors swung open.
Sakra was shoved into the large throne room and the doors were heaved shut with a resounding bang. The throne room was brighter than the rest of the castle, with about four windows that allowed the morning sunlight to stream in and four, tall poles that held bright, dancing flames. In the center of the room, directly in front of Sakra, was a black throne that seemed empty. Littered around the room randomly were guards and soldiers, standing resolute.
Sakra was trying to figure out what the throne was made out of when a shadowy figure on the throne, that he hadn't noticed before, shifted. "Ah, Sakra. Welcome to my palace, i hope your stay wasn't too uncomfortable." The shadowy figure greeted without a hint of sarcasm or mirth, which puzzled Sakra. A dozen retorts crossed his mind, but he decided to keep silent. The king gestured to someone to the right of him and a sharp "Hey!" sounded as two ladies were pushed closer to Sakra, who raised his eyebrows, previously thinking they had been guards. The one closest to him was heavily armored in dull grey, steel armor, she wore no helmet, allowing her shoulder length, dark sandy hair to fall neatly across one of her green-brown eyes. Her harsh expression told him she was used to being caught and had seen many deaths. The other girl wore a plain blue dress with tight sleeves that almost reached her elbows and fingerless gloves. Her long, dark brown hair was tied in a ponytail behind her head, her pale blue eyes betrayed her intelligence. Both had their hands tied behind their back, the armored one had chains while the other had rope. They eyed him like he was an alien, but he shrugged it off, he was used to it.
The king spoke up. "You three have been causing a lot of trouble in my kingdom, stealing, killing, upsetting my citizens and creating messes..." Sakra noticed the girl in the blue dress blush. "... Such crimes deserve death, or at least a life time imprisonment." Sakra gulped. He hadn't killed anyone, but spending the rest of his life in prison sounded worse than death, one night was bad enough. The king continued. "Being criminals, you have hid in the forest most your life. And i suppose you, Sakra, also hide because of your family's reputation and your... appearance." Sakra winced as the king's noble voice cracked, revealing the slightest of disgust. It was true though. He was considered a freak, a devil. Instead of skin, his whole body was covered in short, sleek, blue fur, and his teeth were all pointed, similar to a wolves. He had blue eyes, which were slightly darker than his fur and his medium length, black-with-a-hint-of-blue, spiked hair always stuck up chaotically. Sakra's appearance was unheard of, causing people to think he was bad luck. Plus, to make matters worse, because almost every one knew his parents were part of a conspiracy that killed hundreds of people, they hated him. Often people came searching for him, the last member of the now extinct group, to put an end to the murder. But Sakra was against killing, unless it was absolutely necessary. You'd think they'd have realized i don't murder by now.
The king stood up, making the three prisoners focus on the king again. The light from the torches lit up his head, revealing a face that resembled a 30 year olds. He had a closely trimmed beard, his dark eyes sparkled with a strange kindness. A thin circlet of gold rested on his head, which held a white gem on the front, he wore a red robe over his shoulders, with small gold patterns covering it. Sakra snapped out of his day dreams when the king offered, "I would like to give you the opportunity to wipe your records clean. I will let you live in my kingdom unhindered and in peace, but only if you will do something for me." Sakra stared at him. "What did you want us to do?" The king glanced at him before replying in a matter-of-fact tone of voice. "Either swear you will do as i ask or be killed on the spot." Sakra's blood ran cold as the soldiers shifted eagerly, their armor rattling or rasping. Sakra watched the guards, there was no way he could avoid this many soldiers with his hands chained. The two girls seemed to be thinking the same things as their eyes searched the room. It was an obvious choice. "I swear i will do as you ask." Sakra spoke clearly, with a hint of sarcasm, just to annoy the king. The warrior girl eyed Sakra with distaste before speaking for the first time, her voice harsh and firm. "Fine, i swear." The other girl replied in the same way, grudgingly stating with a sweet accent. "I swear." The king nodded. "Of course, you could easily break that oath, so-" "Want me to swear on my mother's grave then?" Sakra joked in a silly tone of voice. A guard shoved him in the back with the butt of a sword. "Ow!" He grinned, amused. The warrior girl looked at him, her expression saying, 'What is your problem?!' While the other girl stifled a smile.
The king ingnored them and cleared his throat before continuing. "So you will have to swear by the sun." The room immediately returned to feeling like a death chamber.
Swearing by the sun was serious, if you broke your promise, the rumors said you instantly died, turning into dust, and your spirit would forever roam the sky. Sakra wasn't always sure what to make of the rumors, the sun had done very strange things in the past, so the rumors weren't impossible. Can't be worse than being run through. "Stand over here." The king commanded, gesturing to the windows to the right of him, the left of Sakra, who mentally shrugged and made his way over there before the guards could jab him again. The other two prisoners followed indecisively.
Sakra stared out the window in front of him. The bright day made him squint as his eyes adjusted to the light. Many houses, stalls and wooden buildings surrounded the castle, outlining the town was a tall, stone wall, cutting off the peasants, farms and forests.
When each prisoner was looking out of a separate window, the king declared, "Now, look at the sun and repeat after me..." Sakra squinted at the sun, making his eyes start watering. Hurry up! "... I swear by the sun..." The king began. "I swear by the sun..." They echoed in unison. "...that i will complete this quest for Aramon, king of Reshish and obey his commands." He finished and the three repeated after him. As soon as they had said what was required, they turned away, rubbing their eyes. Sakra tried to look at 'his majesty' again but could only see shifting shadows. He squeezed his sore eyes shut again then tried to refocus, but he still couldn't see well enough. A soldier shoved Sakra, almost knocking him over, but he managed to stumble forward to the middle of the room, still half blind.
"Right, i want you to find the white sword for me." The king, who apparently was named Aramon, said strait out. "But, sir, that sword is a myth!" The girl in the dark blue dress objected. A guard got ready to whack her over the head but backed away when the king glared at him. "The sword is not a myth, i assure you." Aramon argued. "Anyway, i want you to find it and bring it to me before the Night Festival. I will provide transportation and anything else you will need, i will also send a couple of guards to help you." The soldiers looked slightly disturbed at the sound of this, which made Sakra grin stupidly. "You will treat the guards kindly, and fairly, nobody in your group will be better than the other." He added, eyeing Sakra like a dangerous weapon. "Awww." Sakra played, causing the guards to shift uneasily. Aramon rolled his eyes. "Guards, you may release them, they are bound by their oath to not harm you or try escape their fate." The soldiers hesitantly unchained them and cut the other girl's rope, taking an extra long time with Sakra's chains.
When he was finally free, Sakra rubbed his arms, longing to run off into the blue. "Could i have my things back?" "You will get them on your way out." replied the king. "Remember, be good to my soldiers, be back with the white sword by the Night festival this year, and do not ever reveal to anyone your quest." The three nodded, hanging on to his words. "Jarame, Varin, you two will go on this mission." Two guards in the crowd stepped forward, not looking too pleased, each wearing full on armor. "You will find the things you need at the gate entrance, good luck. You are dismissed." Aramon finalized, sitting wearily back in his throne. Sakra quickly went to the back of the room, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room bore into his back. As he heaved a gold door open a crack, enough for him to get out, Sakra heard the footsteps of four other people behind him approaching. He slipped through the crack and waited for the others to exit. The girl in armor came out first, ignoring Sakra, then the other girl, who looked at him like an infection. When the two guards popped out, one of them, with light blond hair and kind eyes came up to Sakra and dipped his head, a sign of recognition. " My name is Jarame, i'll show you the entrance, this castle can be quite a maze." He smiled and led the group down the flight of stairs that Sakra had come up a while ago. The other guard, who must've been Varin, had longer, dark hair that almost reached his bitter, brown-green eyes.
It took a few minutes for the silent group to get through the castle, onto horses, through town and to the gate. By the time they dismounted the sun was midway on it's path through the sky.
The still, hot air caused sweat to bead on the group as Sakra gazed at the many rickety houses lined up beside the main road. The five mounted their new horses right in front of the gate, waiting for a messenger to bring their belongings and provisions. As Sakra mounted his dark brown horse, he turned to the girl in the blue dress, who sat on a speckled white and toffee mare. "Since we're stuck together, may i know your name?" She whipped her head around and stared at Sakra for a moment before stating, "Ethrir, i hope you know how to ride a horse." And she beckoned her mare to move forward, leaving him alone with his stallion. "Nice to meet you too." Sakra mumbled. Just then, the messenger galloped up to the group on a horse with a bunch of bags tied to the leather saddle. He slowed his horse and hopped off, then grabbed all the bags and marched toward them. "These are the food, one bag for each of you, it should be enough for 10 meals." He quickly explained, handing out a bag of food to each person. Sakra decided to find out what was in it later. "A pouch of money for each of you, use it sparingly." The messenger handed them each a jingling pouch before walking up to the armored girl. "Your sword, helmet, money, backpack, dagger, dagger and spare sword." He stated, handing the items to her as he said them. Then, going over to the other girl, in the same way handed her her things. "Here's your staff, knife, book, bag and pouch." Finally, the man came up to Sakra, hesitating slightly before handing him all his belongings in silence. Sakra nodded his thanks and worked at tying his belongings to the saddle.
Finally, when everyone was packed and ready to go, Sakra trotted his steed over infront of the group. "Ok, so your Jarame..." he over viewed, pointing to each person as he said their name. "Your Varin, your Ethrir, and your..." he paused at the armored girl, realizing he didn't know her name. "Sorry, i didn't catch your name." "Vri." She said without emotion. "Right, and Vri." He ended. Sakra backed his horse up slightly before looking over through the gate. But when he gazed over the fields, farms and the distant forest, he could not feel free or relieved, he still felt chained, tense, though a sense of thrill, like this was the beginning of something huge, lingered in his mind. He took a deep breath and pushed the emotions elsewhere before looking back at the others. "Shall we go?" Instead of an answer Vri pushed her white stallion foward with a sharp, "High-ya!" And a slap on it's rear. As she galloped out of the city, dust trailing behind her, the rest of them ordered their steed forward. "Come on, lets catch up!" Sakra whispered to his horse, who, with a some gentle kicks in it's side, rushed forward, galloping up to Vri. "Yeah!" he praised, grinning at the sensation of the wind rushing through his fur and and the earthy fragrance rising from the upset dirt.
Chapter 2
It must have been well past midnight by the time they saw their destination, but because the moon was hidden by the dark clouds, it was hard to tell. Sakra's posterior ached from riding for over 12 hours, and his eyelids drooped from not sleeping in more than 24 hours.
According to Ethrir, a couple of good friend who knew a bit about myths and legends lived in the city Harlair, and could help them with discovering the whereabouts of the legendary white sword, which they knew nothing about, except for the fact it was a powerful weapon.
