by Daila Wright
Admittedly, her knowledge came from either conversations Mokkan had with his guests, or where the princesses happened to be in the Wilderness before they ended up in the same tower. She didn’t exactly overhear anything important, only snippets of conversation jumbled up in her mind over the years, and the reverence the monsters had for their homeland, which could easily swallow them up if they forgot just how dangerous the world was.
“Look, we didn’t come all this way to rescue a bitch, so you’ll stay with us, or you can go by yourself through the forest. If you’re so determined.”
That ended the conversation, but not Jackie’s undercurrent of irritation. Surrounded by deaf ears and the sinking knowledge of being unable to survive on her own, Jackie had no choice but to go along with them, and hope, somehow, that they pulled off a miracle. Only so many times could she talk to someone until realizing that every single word fell on unchanging minds and dangerously proud hearts.
Who would listen to a silly, airhead princess anyway, who didn’t know what she was talking about, who spent her entire life being served and living a life of luxury and dreams? Those were the thoughts that ticked in their minds.
None of them knew her fingers had flicked through many books and stained themselves with ink and knowledge, saturating her brain with new ideas and concepts that she knew on an instinctive level, but not how to express and convert into tangible thought. She knew, for example, that in a dragon’s cave, she was relatively safe, as they were bound by moral codes, obliged to treat their princess well and give them basic care – whereas other monsters did not operate by the same obligations, having different societies and functions.
She also knew, even before her subsequent capture, that around ninety percent of dragons shapeshifted into humans. The true traditionalists never learned, preferring to always stay in their “noble and elegant” forms.
The group wandered through the Swamp of Illusions, using the mountain peak as a guide, weary boots slapping into the grass and mud and spongy soil. Their progress came slowly, and gradually all conversation died out in place of the persistent need to push on. Horace sometimes hummed to himself, reminiscing about their defeat of Mokkan as a good, golden day, a day to be remembered by the grandchildren he planned to have. (Though he planned to omit the number of Questers involved in their victory.)
Over the hours, through rests and snacks and emptying their bladders, Jackie noticed the mountain never seemed to change perspective or size. It was always the same clouds, the same trees, and the same eagle circling in the distance. She didn’t say anything, but now started thinking through her options, and what she needed to do when everyone here died. Always best to be prepared for anything. Just like her mother and father used to say, and her survivalist older brother, who loved risking his life by camping in the wilder parts of their kingdom, either on mountain ledges or spying on military encampments and wealthy merchants in the kingdoms on either side of them.
“You may be a princess, living the life most people can only dream of,” brother Jacob had said, prodding her on the nose, his mouth wide in a Jacob smile, “but you also live in a dangerous kingdom. Tomorrow or in ten years, we might be invaded or poisoned in our homes. If you don’t learn anything, you may as well sit there and allow the world to kill you.”
Thanks, Jacob. His advice helped her keep her sanity when she was deprived of books in Mokkan’s residence, and encouraged her to write books of her own. Unfortunately, she never learned the same survivalist skills as him – something she now deeply regretted.
Two days later, no one wanted to admit that they were lost. The scenery remained exactly the same, and the path they kept walking upon somehow always made them pass the same flowers, chunks of grass, and fallen oak tree.
“Huh. Odd,” Horace said. “We’re not making any progress at all. Maybe we should try a different direction.”
Just keep knocking your head against that same wall. Jackie rolled her eyes, munching on an apple and chewing right into the core. They shifted direction, with Andrea whining in the background about how her feet were sore and she needed a bath. Oblivious to the fact that everyone else was in the same situation as her, likely feeling the same as her, her voice took on a nasal pitch as her distress increased. Tempers shortened and the band of five began sniping at one another, disgruntled, tired, thirsty, and frustrated at their lack of progress and the merciless environment that crushed them slowly with illusory fingers.
Jackie’s scrub dress became torn and her feet erupted in blisters every few hours. Despite the healer’s efforts in mending the discomfort, the poor mage couldn’t deal with physical exhaustion.
When the ranger equipped his Leaf Wings and took off to get a better vantage point of where they were, he never returned.
“Eh, he probably just wanted to take off with the loot,” Horace reasoned.
“Yes,” Jackie said, her voice tight with disbelief at his blatant refusal to admit the obvious, or his terrible decision. Even to the point of explaining away missing members of his team.
Next to go was Reginald. When they slept around a fire with Reginald on watch duty, they woke up a few hours later, and the knight had vanished.
“He’s probably chasing a swamp Quest. He’ll be back.”
Third was the healer, who spotted a frog, and, thinking it might be Reginald, picked it up and kissed it. A few moments later, the healer bloated up and lifted off the ground like a balloon, drifting into the sky, unable to move or squeak as Horace and Koras the monk tried to rescue him.
“Still think he floated off because he just wanted to see the sky?” Jackie said, giving her disapproving I told you fucking so face to the rather glum mage.
“Hmph,” the mage said, his tone distant, not wanting to engage or provoke debate on the matter.
“You can admit you made a terrible mistake,” Jackie offered, “though I don’t think we can backtrack anymore.”
“Just shut up. I’m tired of hearing you speak,” Horace said, redirecting his guilt into anger. Still unable to comprehend his own stupidity. Jackie sighed.
One hour later, they walked across a seemingly innocuous patch of ground, clear and green, with butterflies fluttering around flowers. However, the second they had all reached the middle, the ground began swallowing them up, letting out disgusting belching noises and the strong smell of manure. Jackie instantly grabbed onto an overhanging branch and Horace blasted the ground beneath him with flames, accidentally setting his monk friend on fire.
“We have to get out of this!” Horace yelled, as Andrea screamed, flailing uselessly until Jackie grabbed her hand, helping to haul her to the same branch. Koras sunk beneath the treacherous bog, and Horace continued screaming until the mud slurped over his mouth, nose, and eyes. He vanished into the ground with a plop.
Andrea continued screaming hysterically until Jackie snapped, “If you don’t shut up I’m going to shove you off this branch and you can drown with the rest of them.”
Andrea’s wailing turned into sniffles, the tears drenching her face, and she glared at Jackie. “I never liked you back at the tower. You never did anything with us.”
“Andrea, I don’t care.” Jackie was already looking around, trying to determine how far it was to the bank of relative safety, before conceding that there was nothing they could do except wait and slowly starve to death – and hope some monster came along with a kind bone in its body. Or competent Questers with actual navigational devices to punch through the Swamp of Illusions, and maybe a danger sense item, so they didn’t walk into snake pits or spike traps every five seconds.
A frog watched them balefully from the safe side of the bank, and ribbited ominously.
“Why are you such a bitch?” Andrea asked, now swallowing her tears and gasping as she resisted the desire to cry and cry.
“Why are you?” Jackie countered, though she didn’t listen for the response. She had no time for this. They were stuck on a tree, mud coating their bottom halves, w
ith solid ground too far on either side. They had no trinkets, no knowledge of spells, and they’d probably die of thirst in three days.
She closed her eyes, drowning out Andrea’s voice as she rested herself more comfortably on the fork of the branch, the leaves tickling either side, and reflected on her life. Her achievements. The prince she believed she was going to marry, maybe still waiting for her, or maybe shunted off to another princess when she vanished. She tried recalling her initial attraction, but nothing came. Just a sense of hollow, of the passing of time and the accumulation of experiences in the Wilderness and in the tower.
She didn’t need to save Andrea, honestly, but the princess was just woefully ignorant. Like a child. Unable to think for herself. She needed someone to bail her out, like a true princess.
Understandable, but still annoying. Jackie didn’t know how long they remained here in this impossible situation, but she must have drifted off to sleep at some point, because when she focused again, it was near evening, near the darkness, and the clouds above obscured the sky, meaning that they’d have little to no light to warm them up tonight. Plunging them into darkness, without the comfort of light to protect them from their imaginations.
Andrea let out whimpers, clearly distressed, but thankfully, she had the good sense otherwise to stay quiet, though Jackie needed to explicitly state to her why. You want to be eaten by any passing predator that might be able to reach us? Go ahead. Make a sound.
The bog beneath them, once it hit dusk, began glowing with an eerie blue light. Sparks seemed to wriggle along it, providing them a small measure of visibility, though Andrea shuddered because she thought the lights belonged to little bugs. Jackie couldn’t see from their height, but the blue glow never left the surface of the bog.
Presently, in the encroaching darkness, a flickering spot of light appeared in the near distance. The light bobbed, as if carried by something, waving in the familiar quality of a torch with the shadow of the bearer casting itself across trees and bushes, along with other signs of movement. A group of people. Or monsters. Andrea grew desperately prayerful, hoping help had finally arrived, but Jackie kept her hope dimmed, wanting to assess the threat first.
The light bobbed close enough to reveal a man and two women. The man held the torch, his face draped in shadows, and though he didn’t look particularly well-geared, along with one of the women, the third member of their group came well-equipped with gear and enchantment, a navigational artifact glowing green from the chain hung around her neck.
The other woman had some kind of bottle, and she crouched by the side of the bog, scooping up the blue iridescence. Andrea let out a yelp as she slipped, leaning too close to the edge of her branch, and the male exclaimed, “Who’s there?” He cast his light around until he saw the two princesses in the branch. “Wait… are you humans?”
The well-geared woman nodded, answering for them. “Yes. They’re princesses. I can smell the entitlement from here.” The comment made Jackie snigger, and the male squinted at her. In the dim light, he appeared attractive, but Jackie kept her guard up as he turned to the others. “Well, I suppose we’d better rescue them then. How does that work out? Do we own them or are we their saviours?”
“Both,” the well-dressed woman replied, her black armor clanking. “You and Elzara can own one each. There’s nothing that says Quest Givers can’t own princesses.”
“Good to know. Right, let’s save our princesses.”
“Can I ask who you are?” Jackie called. Since she was going to be saved by them, willingly or not, she wanted to know whether they were monsters or not.
“I’m Durza. Dragon of High Mountain. This is my sister, Elzara, also dragon of High Mountain. And this is Morgana, the witch of High Mountain.”
Jackie processed the information. “I’ve never even seen a female dragon before.”
Elzara grinned at her, standing tall and proud. “There are not many of us. But we like owning our princesses, too.”
“Oh.” Jackie hesitated again. “Quest Givers?”
“Let’s just save the chit-chat for later,” Morgana growled. “And get you idiots out of here.”
“Alright. Though I’m going to point out that out of the seven people of this former group, I’m the one who tried to stop everyone else killing themselves. They went into the Swamp of Illusions without a navigational device.”
Elzara gasped at this. “That’s insane!”
“I know. But they didn’t want to listen, because I’m just a silly princess.”
Durza examined her for a moment. “Silly princess, huh? You’ll do.” He then snapped at Elzara, “She’ll be mine, Elzara. Back off.”
“Aw… I like her, too.” Elzara glared at her brother, hands on hips. Elzara did the rescue, shifting into a small dragon with glimmering blue scales, swooping above them and letting both princesses climb onto her talons. Morgana, nonplussed, continued collecting the blue glowing things with Elzara’s bottle, and Elzara encouraged the princesses to clamber onto her back once they reached stable ground.
“I was supposed to be saved,” Andrea wailed, now resorting to bawling her eyes out again. “I finally got released from my dragon captive, and now I’m captured again!”
“Goodness, you’re a grateful one, aren’t you,” Morgana said, stoppering the bottle and tucking it into her robes. “Right, you two, follow behind. We can start flying once we reach the Blue Rock.”
Morgana walked next to Durza, his strong, solid back exposed. Jackie clung onto Elzara’s delicate spikes. Nestled in the crook of the dragon’s neck, she found that riding a dragon was not that dissimilar to riding a horse, and she settled into the rhythm quickly.
I suppose this was to be expected, really. Of course I’d get recaptured, and probably spend another two years or so in captivity. Still, at least I’ll have somewhere okay to sleep and eat in again. As long as I’m not holed up with fourteen other princesses, I’ll be fine.
She hoped.
Chapter Two
Seated in her new home, Jackie concluded it was a step up from her former living arrangements. For a start, Durza gave her the run of the place. So instead of being stuck inside one building, she could wander in and out of the caves as she pleased.
By way of explanation, Durza said, “I never made a tower, because I never intended to keep princesses. I chose a different life. So, well – if you want to take your chances and escape, be my guest. You may find it slightly awkward to do so, though.”
Durza’s words held weight. Outside of his rather impressive cave lay a terrifying, twisting domain of cliffs and mountains, with thin rope bridges connecting each of them. Even if Jackie risked life and limb to crawl along the bridges to the bottom of High Mountain, she then had a rather charmingly named area called the Forest of Madness to go through, and she knew enough about the Forest of Madness to understand that anyone who entered such an area without adequate protection would be cursed to wander the confines of the forest, never dying, even though their bodies aged and sagged. Even when their minds dissolved into nothing, leaving gibbering nightmares.
The people in that place wandered like silent ghouls, not harmful to anyone, but a horrifying, twisted reminder of the deceptive calm of the forest, which housed a sinister evil. An evil that whispered into their minds and drove them to the brink of insanity, then pushed them merrily off the cliff, snapping their minds.
“The air is cursed as well, so if anyone tries to fly through it, and they’re not dragons, they’ll be attacked by the Hunger Clouds.” Durza pointed to some fluffy, pure white clouds floating in the air just above them, when they stood at the entrance of his cave. “Those turn into jaw-chomping monsters if they sense people violating their airspace.”
Jackie gaped at the clouds in astonishment. “If you’re a Quest Giver, how do you expect people to reach you in the first place?”
“That’s why only the exceptional can come to us,” Durza replied. “And that’s why our rewards are substantial
for any Quester who succeeds.”
Since being taken by Durza a week ago, Jackie had slowly been adjusting to life in her new home. On High Mountain, she had a fantastic view of the Wilderness in all directions, seeing the bump and change of terrain, from forests to swamps to plains, and even a desert. The only thing she couldn’t see was any of the kingdoms, signifying just how deep into the Wilderness they lived.
Durza employed small animals to help tidy his place, from mice to squirrels and birds, and they did a fine job keeping his floors clean, the sink and bathtub unblocked, and the bedsheets always fresh. He aimed for blue and gray tones in his cave, from pale cyan carpets and tablecloths to dark blue sofas, and paintings depicting cloud-strewn skies. Pale orange light illuminated the place. Jackie slept two doors away from Durza, and admitted that her new small bedroom was a massive improvement on her former home – despite the obvious fact that it would be even harder to rescue her than before.
Only the brave and the foolhardy would penetrate so deep into the Wilderness.
Durza proved an interesting study of character as well. He didn’t match the prince stereotype at all in his build. Light brown hair, dark brown eyes, a body neither too muscular nor slender, neither too tall nor short. Just average, really. Except for an “average” body in terms of sliding out of the blonde hair/blue-green eye spectrum, he looked like a fine specimen indeed. There was something about his oval, chiseled face that gave an aura of softness, of eerie beauty that matched the way his eyes glared out from under his long eyelashes. And when he smiled, two dimples formed on the sides of his lips under his high cheekbones. His eyes held a thousand years of wisdom, sadness, and observation, so when they looked at her, she felt as if she were being undressed, with her ribcage exposed to allow her beating heart scrutiny.