Rose-princess-Smashwords-manuscript

by Bell Maya

  Magic ran in their fingertips, after all.

  Chapter Three: A Light in the Darkness

  They were unsure what awaited them in the city, or what lay between the Lunar Crestus and the Dark Salt Castle, but both had sparked a fire in each other’s hearts. A flame that once lit, could never truly be smothered. A fire which gave them courage.

  They rode close, their fingers met, and hands intertwined. Despite the iron in her blood and magic at her fingertips, Dori always felt better when her hand was holding Hanna’s. As they trotted over wet sand, stones, shells and seaweed the city lights of Lunar Crestus drew closer, Hanna hummed an old song. She tipped her head and looked to the ripples of light above, and bumped shoulders with her companion, who responded with a huff. They were on a mission. They needed to focus.

  Hanna grinned, stretching her arms high. Her long, silky pink sleeves flowing with her. “We’re gonna be free, Dori!” She smiled. A smile so long, bright and sweet that the ground beneath Dori might just well have given out. A soft glow came from Hanna’s hands, a sudden rain of rose petals came shooting from her palms and then raining down on them both. And in that single moment, they were just kids again. Dori didn’t see the Rose Faelancer or the Princess of High Dawn. She saw her best friend. The one that taught her about the type of sweets that horses secretly love most. The best friend that she braved an abandoned witch’s hut with once, when their mother’s thought that this friendship could save them. That this friendship could save their children. But every year that passed, Dori’s home, Lunar Voltus, seemed so much farther away from the High Dawn Palace. The Evening Wood’s became enemy territory. The honey-bee fields and their rolling hills of wheat, or the farms where lion-men raised cattle, and the deep Solstris Caverns home to the Moth-folk. No matter how far away it seemed, Dori would ride to the border of Voltus, and as the sun melted back away below the horizon, her and Lapadaisy would ride the Vinter Tunnels all the way to the Solstris Caverns, and emerge to ride hard and fast to the palace.

  So she could see her best friend. (The only one she would truly call her friend. For Hanna, greedy as she was, owned all the love in Dori’s heart.)

  So she could throw stones to her window, and call out her name. The name that rolled like honey off her tongue.

  (Under green willow trees in the late summer afternoons, Hanna would often muse that Dori was like a prince from one of her many books. She would even point to the ones clad in silver, ridiculous armour and exclaim, there! Don’t you see? That’s you, flowers and all.)

  And Dori would see a face the shape of a strawberry with hair to match, and a smile that shone brighter than the moon.

  (Lunar was in her blood, but Dori swore in silence to herself that the moon would mean little if it couldn’t shine down upon Hanna’s smile.)

  “Free,” Dori said, her voice quiet. So quiet, it seemed she was talking to herself. But a small smile played on her dark red lips, one that betrayed the excitement of the possibility. To escape their fate. A blush even bloomed in Dori’s cheeks, but she counted her stars that Hanna couldn’t see the red against her brown skin and black freckles. They said little else, simply letting their fingers intertwine once again, and Hanna let her thumb run down Dori’s, just the way she liked.

  At the tunnels end, it opened into a dark woodland that bordered Lunar Crestus. The city, the woods, and the land beyond was not the same sea floor they had just walked over. No. The sunken land of Lunar Castreus looked as though it was had never sunk, simply, it had just been misplaced…at the bottom of the sea. While Dori stared up and wondered in awe what kind of ancient magic could be capable of this,

  From the shadows of the woods, a dark creature emerged, seeming to be a shadow itself, separated from its brethren. With the head of a wolf, its fangs long and dripping with drool, the creature stared them both down. Its breath was heavy and ragged, bits of cloth and moss dangling from its black fur, bits of drift-wood sticking to its hulking back.

  Out of instinct, Hanna and Dori jumped back and into their basic fighting stance. Right foot behind, left foot pointed towards the enemy.

  As danger drew close, the magic danced bright, burning within them, waiting to be unleashed.

  The two exchanged a single, knowing glance.

  It was time for the Iris and Rose Faelancer to emerge.

  Chapter Four: The Midnight Beast

  The creature’s growl rumbled deep from within in its scarred chest. It did little to spark fear in the Faelancer’s hearts. They each gripped their Bracers, and held them high. A great flash of light and heat briefly blinded the werewolf, averting its red eyes away.

  In those few moments as the light burnt away the shadows of the woodland, the two princesses transformed into guardians. The bells and violins of Harpsichord rang out and enveloped their hearts and minds as magic flooded them.

  Their hands thrummed with magic, ready for battle.

  Dorianna’s black coat transformed into a robe of dark violet and black, ribbons forming from light to wrap themselves around her throat and just above her knees. Stockings, glittering and forming the patterns of iris petals formed, her riding boots transforming into pointed shoes ready for combat and spellcasting. A pink sash united by a large, silver buckle in the shape of the moon tied itself around her waist in an explosion of glitter and light. And finally, two pins, silver and looking like webbed moonlight shone into being behind her ears, making her ears seem pointed, like one of their faerie ancestors. A halberd, the pole and grip black, with the silver of the blade winking in the light, shimmered into Dori’s hands. It thrummed with magic, ready for battle.

  Hanna felt the strings of Harpsicord ring out in grand splendour, as the silk of her dress transformed into a robe much like Dori’s except in a bright, brilliant pink. In a sweep of pink light, her armour formed. Tiny, red roses adorned her golden pauldrons, a cloak trimmed with pink and gold flowing from her back, a crown of roses shaped from silver, twinkling upon her pink curls. When she opened her eyes, the strings of Harpsicord faded, and her long blade, the hilt a twisted gold topped with a rose formed in her hand, the tip of the blade pressed into the earth.

  The werewolf snapped its jaws in defiance at the sight of them.

  The Rose and Iris Faelancer didn’t flinch at its low growl. They were magic incarnate.

  The wolf surged forward, faster than one would expect a creature of that size would be able to move. The slap of water crashing sounded as the portal closed behind them, trapping them in the bubble that enclosed this kingdom beneath the sea. They had no time to wonder how they would open it again.

  Hanna lifted her sword, the blade glowing pink as she shouted, “Sweep of Light!” and in response, the magic in her body surged through her, from her fingertips, her sword and out of the metal into a rush of powerful, pink light that swatted the wolf away. The creature yelped with shock, but was quick to jump back to its feet with a furious howl.

  Dori swung her halberd, the blade and pole landing on her shoulder blades, the silver pointing directly at the beast. “Sting of the Iris!” Dori shouted, her dark curls now loose and wild, air of magic around her lifting it up to flutter as a sharp beam of blue light shot from the blade and slammed the werewolf in the chest, blowing it far back into the shadows of the woods.

  For a moment, both blue and pink light lit up the forest, from the tips of the canopy, right down to the rabbits hiding in the brush. Quicker than a viper, the werewolf took the opportunity to scurry in the shadows as they closed back in, the light from their spells dissipating. Dori and Hanna exchanged a glance, both aware of the advantage that this gave the wolf. It could climb the trees, leap from branch to branch, and descend upon them both without warning.

  But they had to pass through the woods, and to the city beyond. Hunted or not.

  Dori raised the point of her halberd and said, “Lunar Child!” An orb of blue light formed, a spectre that looked to be a small version of the very moon that hung in the sky. It floated just above
their heads, following Dori as they dared to entered the forest. The silence was interrupted only by the occasional hoot of an owl, or scuttle of a running squirrel between the horses hooves. Lapadaisy and Darkmouse nickered softly, their nerves beginning to get the better of them despite their courage. Not much spooked them. But Dori couldn’t blame them, she could sense their riders felt much the same. Yet they rode on, down a deer path and over roots of trees that Dori couldn’t help but wonder if they were made of magic. The night stretched on, and still no wolf. They kept their guard up, yet wondered if he had returned to the darkness from whence he came. But with creatures like this, who knew what had created him?

  A curse, a spell gone awfully awry, or was he born a beast? Hanna curled the reigns around her fingers, and suddenly felt the weight of her silver crown. She didn’t want to hurt him. She never wanted to hurt anyone when she fought as the Rose Faelancer. But duty called her to protect the innocent, defend herself, and the land of Sweethearth. Under her breath, Hanna recounted spells. They were forged into her mind like iron brands, so thoroughly ingrained in her that when she closed her eyes, the princess swore she could see the spells written out in her hand-written spell-book. She couldn’t even count the hours she’d spent learning, writing and re-writing the Faelancer spells. Each of the seven Faelancers had a unique set of spells, ones that each new generation would learn, and even add to. Hanna remembered her grandmother, sweet and stern as she was, had been the one to introduce her. To magic, to the craft, and the countless spells from generations of Faelancers.

  She’d begun by memorising her grandmother’s recipe book. She cooked every dish, every pastry and cake, until she could do it by memory. And only then, did Hanna’s grandmother bless her with the first spell book of the Rose Faelancers.

  “Rose Fire.”

  “Thunder of Dusk.”

  “Wall of Thorns.”

  “Blinding Light.”

  Her lips mouthed the words to each spell, to ensure that they would roll off her tongue. Dori watched her lips and admired the sheer focus that illuminated those brown eyes. She wondered if her Rose Princess could feel the cold in her dress of silk, and Dori yearned to give Hanna her black cloak. But she knew that Hanna would reject it with that sweet smile of hers, insisting Dori stay warm. So she stayed quiet, and listened for the sound of claws scraping on bark.

  Chapter Five: The Witch and Her Wolf

  They followed the deer trails, past ponds filled with glowing koi, and rabbit hovels until they heard the unmistakable crackle and hiss of an open fire. They slowed from a trot to a cautious walk, lowering themselves in the saddle until they reached a rocky overhang, lichen and moss dangling from the maw of the rocks. Dori and Hanna slipped from the saddles, patting Darkmouse and Lapadaisy in the silent signal to remain where they were. Below, the pop and crackle of the fire was drowned out by the low, rhythmic grunting and grumble of what they could only presume to be their prey.

  “It’s close to the city. Too close,” Dori whispered to Hanna, her halberd materialising in her gloved hands. She rolled it in her palms, readying for the fight to come. Hanna nodded, knowing that they couldn’t let the beast possibly slip into the city and hurt the innocents within, or any that might wander into the forest. A part of Hanna, right in the back of her head, couldn’t help but wonder if there was something else they could do. Find some way to help the werewolf and the human stuck inside. But the innocent came first. They always did. The Rose Faelancer summoned her blade and in a small shimmer of pink light, it formed in her hands.

  But before they could creep any closer, a woman’s voice sounded. Her shadow appeared, the light from the fire making her shadow as tall as the woods behind her.

  “Silas. Please, calm yourself!” The woman’s voice begged, sadness and something else in her words. The wolf growled in response. The shadow darted back, and she gasped.

  There was no time to spare.

  Hanna rushed forward, leaping off the edge of the rocky hangover, sword pointed down. The moonlight shining from the sea above glinted off her silver crown. “Rose Fire!” She cried, her sword striking the ground as she landed. The blade glowed and burst into brilliant pink flames, the open fire behind her suddenly turning the same pink hue. Hanna stood tall, pointing her sword to the werewolf standing over the defenceless woman. She was thin, black hair tangled, arms raised in weak protest against the creature glowering over her. Dori followed, landing with a graceful spin of her Halberd.

  “Leave her be!” Hanna shouted, with such ferocity in her voice that even Dori felt it. The werewolf snarled at them, revealing canines long and fearsome and a mouthful of razor sharp teeth to match. It leapt at them, fast and ferocious, but Dori was quicker. “Wall of Thorns!” She shouted, the tip of her halberd pointed into the dirt. Vines, thick, black and lined with endless rows of thorns sharp as claws burst from the earth, the wolf entangling itself, vines wrapping like pythons around the beasts arms and legs. It howled and roared, struggling in vain to wrestle out of her spells grip. It would hold, but not for long.

  Dori kept her magic going, concentrating with all her might to keep the vines holding the beast. The beast managed to free a clawed hand, and swung at her. Dori leapt back, managing to avoid its dark claws slicing through the air. As she stumbled to the ground, Hanna surged forward, sword thrust forward. Anger seething from every word, she shouted, “Thunder of Dusk!”

  A rumble and sudden match-strike of thunder heeded her call, a pink flash of light blinded them all for a moment as the lightning crashed to the earth, vanquishing the werewolf. As the light faded and the world woodland clearing returned to the dark of night, it became clear the wolf was no more. With one final, heaving breath, the creature dissolved into a black smoke, returning to the shadows.

  The flames went out on Hanna’s sword as the magic faded away in a flash of light, her clothes returning to normal. Dori returned to her normal self as well, the halberd fading away in a soft, dark mist. As the magic returned within them, the flames of the fire pit went from pink, to the reddish orange of any normal flame.

  The woman said nothing, for a long while, until finally she decided she should tell her saviours her name.

  “My name is Morgana. And that was Silas, my husband.”

  Chapter Six: To love a wolf

  I loved him once.

  Before he fell to shadows.

  Before they engulfed him and trapped him

  To let the thunder rattle his claws and bite at strangers

  Once he was a singer on the streets of Lunar Crestus

  He had a voice sweeter than honey

  His hair was yellow as straw, and his smile a beam of sunlight on a cool winter’s morn

  He held me once, long and true

  Before shadows ate him whole

  I lie

  For I still loved him, as a wolf

  Dori let the woman ride on Lapadaisy as she led her horse down the forest path to the gates of Lunar Crestus, and listened to Morgana as she whispered her mournful, song-like poem. The Iris Faelancer knew those words weren’t for her, or even for the widow.

  They were for the wolf.

  Chapter Seven: Lunar Crestus

  The impossible lay before them. Emerging from the shadows, Lunar Crestus was a beacon of golden, shimmering light, paved with stone and yellow brick. It was the sword that cut through the darkness of the snow globe the Dark Queen had created for her sunken city. Nobody truly remembered the day her island paradise had descended into the waves, and none on the surface truly knew why. Some guessed the sea had grown tired of the city, or that it was Lunar Crestus’ punishment for taking neither High Dawn or Lunar’s side in their eternal war. Few suspected that the Queen herself, was responsible. Yet she had not always been a queen, for she never had a kingdom of her own to rule. She had been one of the most powerful Priestess’ in Sweethearth’s long history. And she was a lord, given the responsibility to care for the island she had been born and raised on, that countless of h
er family line had been raised to rule.

  And maybe, the truth of it all would be lost to the waves of time.

  The Faelancers left Morgana by her cottage, ensuring she was safe and home, but there was little else she could do for the poor woman in mourning. The night markets filled the main street of Crestus, with citizens milling about, taking their pick of herbs, fresh game and trinkets, all for sale. The two led their horses through the surging crowd, looking almost normal amongst the ocean-floor dwellers. Hanna made a habit of stopping by stalls, seemingly in awe of every jewel, earring or necklace that twinkled. Dori gritted her teeth and urged her on. Time was against them, after all.

  And no jewel in the world would mean a thing, if Dori couldn’t give it to the one she loved.

  Pushing her way past the crowd, Dori remembered how badly she disliked crowds like this. A cold sweat formed behind her neck, and she tensed. Werewolves and bandits were one thing, but crowds? They were a different beast. But that flood of panic faded, when a warm hand interwove with hers. Hanna was suddenly beside her, arm pressed against hers, a smile on her strawberry scented lips. The warmth from her palm flooded Dori, and the cold sweat melted away, a sense of calm spreading through her instead. Unknown to the people of Crestus, the two princesses held hands, leading their mounts to storm the castle of their beloved ruler.