A High Guard opened the door to his chamber as firelight from oil lamps broke in, casting shadows and then the High Guard asked, “My lord?” He had a thick brown beard and an easy-going demeanor.
Edward wiped his face and raked his hands through his shoulder length raven-black hair and then told him, “Just another nightmare, Melee.”
“They are becoming more frequent. Do you remember the dream this time?”
“Only images,” Edward answered as he closed his blue eyes, remembering the violent sights. “I see a terrible Beast in the midst of a great battle. Its war cry stabs my soul like a knife. I want to flee, but I see the Mystic Rose above the conflict. Many die around me because of the Beast.” He opened his eyes as he stated, “That is all I remember. That is all I ever remember.”
He looked to a wooden pedestal in the middle of the room. On it the Rose magically suspended within a protective glass dome as a ghostly glow illuminated the pedestal. The illumination depended on the color the Rose’s petals assumed. They where yellow. Edward got up, poured water from a pitcher into a wash basin, splashed his face, and then stated, “I cannot remember a time when I did not have the dreams. Why do I have them?” He stared at the water lit by fire as he asked, “And why do I fear them?” He grabbed a towel, dried his face, and then spoke, “Court wise men say the Beast is me while others say it's a great enemy coming to devour our kingdom.” He looked to the High Guard and inquired, “What do you think?”
“I don’t know, my lord,” Melee answered. “Maybe a dream is only a dream.”
The High Guard's answer didn't help Edward. Why must he bear the burden of the visions? He knew the dreams were telling him something. He just didn't know what. The prince lay back in bed, finding no comfort with the stranger beside him as he ordered, “You may leave, Melee. I have an important sun’s cycle tomorrow and need to get what sleep I can.” He clinched his blankets as he continued, “Before the sun is high, we set sail to fetch my intended, Princess Virago of Morgog and head for the Isle of Kismet for the Amalgamation.”
Could the princess or the Morgog Kingdom be the Beast? Their kingdoms had been rivals in the past. This alliance would be an uneasy one. Should he fear what was coming?
* * *
Pluck like a Ghost Panther leaped about the trees, not straying far from the Temple. She loved soaring from limb to limb as if gravity had no pull on her. Freedom and peace engulfed her, erasing her curse at least for a few nals as night spread its wings over the sky. Only the moons, Auror the Greater and Array the Lesser, penetrated its dark hold. Pluck scurried to the top of the tallest tree, studying the heavenly bodies. Even in the vastness of the night, Auror and Array were magnificent and possessed a power of their own. One that affected the tides and her mood. She smiled, taking a deep breath of the pine scented air, mesmerized by the pale blue spheres. Pluck felt a wildness take hold; it was a surge of emotion that ignited her senses. The feral sensations triggered a memory of Fairah hovering above the four cat statues within the temple.
“I was nine then...” Pluck muttered.
“Why do ye cry child?” Fairah questioned the young girl.
Pluck wiped her little eyes while she sat next to the pool in the center of the temple as she replied, “I hate how I look.” She peered at her reflection on the water as she added, “I’m ugly.”
“That is not true,” Fairah told her; she hated seeing Pluck upset. The Protector searched the room, noticed the large cats below her, and then asked, “Did I ever tell ye why these statues are here?” She swiped her ghostly hand through the head of one as she stated, “They guard this temple and each was chosen for their virtues.”
Pluck sniffed as she questioned, “Why tell me?”
“Each of them are within ye,” Fairah explained to her as she floated down and sat next to Pluck. “The strength, heart, and loyalty of the Fire Lion; the speed, enthusiasm, and stability of the Striped Cheetah; the courage, stamina, and dedication of the Woolly Tiger; and the stealth, cunning, and dauntlessness of the Ghost Panther.” She smiled and then added, “They not only make up what ye look like but what ye are inside. Ye’s curse can be a blessing if ye can get pass ye’s appearance.”
“Fairah is right about one thing,” Pluck said to herself as she stared up at the night. “I feel them within me; they're my animal side.” She stretched out on a branch, stared up at the multitude of stars, breathed in the refreshing air as her black tip tail swayed. Pluck felt at home, at least some of her did. A small part yearned for human contact and to return to the Fletching Castle as sorrow enveloped her. She scolded herself, “I’m not going to focus on it. I’ve been sad long enough. I’m going to enjoy the rest of the night.” The moons set as dawn drew near. She climbed down a vine and rushed into the Temple, long tail twitching with excitement.
“Another beautiful night. You should have seen it, Fairah. The moons were blue and full. From the Lofty Pine, I could almost touch the smallest one,” Pluck spoke as she smiled and twirled, dancing around the pool as her white High Guard’s sleeved shirt fluttered with her movements. “At sunset, the sky became amber.” The brown leather pants she wore were baggy from the knees down. Her clawed feet pranced about to an imagined melody. Pluck knelt by the water, studying her reflection by torch light. Since the birth of her beast form, there had been few changes. She had grown eight hands tall, tall as an average man. Her fiery-crimson mane had thickened and flowed just below her shoulders. She had grown a set of breasts and her ears were rounded and cupped. She looked at her hand, at least she still had fingers even if they had retractable claws. Emerald feline eyes stared back at her. “The memory of my human form has faded.,” Pluck said as she frowned.
“Ye better not let Han see ye cry,” Fairah told her as she appeared above her and floated down to her side.
“I’m not crying,” Pluck said as she wiped her eyes. “Anyway, he won’t be here till tomorrow. The letter sent by Courier Pigeon stated he had news for me.” Pluck grabbed her long beige tail, stroking its black tip as she spoke, “I wonder what he wants to tell me. Could it be about the prince or maybe he’s found another way to end my curse?”
Fairah sighed as she threw up her metaphysical hands as she said, “The commander could assist ye much better if ye would only tell him the promise that was made between ye and the prince. Then ye would have no need for any other cure.”
Pluck frowned again as she said, “I fear he’ll try to stop me from receiving the Kiss. That’s why I haven’t told Han all of these seasons.” Pluck lay on the stones, gazing at the ceiling as she stated, “The Kiss isn’t something the prince gives away. It pledges his heart and soul.” She paused and said with a hint of sadness, “Edward may have already given his first kiss to someone.” She rolled over looking at her reflection again and continued, “If this is true, I’ll remain in this accursed body.”
Fairah’s ghostly hand stroked her mane. The Protector wished she had a corporeal form to comfort the woman she’d come to consider her child. Fairah told her, “I know not what to say. There is beauty in ye’s form if only ye would see it.”
Pluck sat up and said, “Even if I did, people would consider me a Necrom. I would be shunned with only an apparition and an old High Guard to keep me company.” She slunk to her blankets on a bed of hay and once she reached them, she requested, “Tell me again about the Creator.”
Fairah grinned as she questioned, “Are ye not a little old for bedtime stories?”
“Are they just stories?” Pluck questioned as she pulled up her blanket, looking into Fairah’s solid white eyes.
“No, child,” Fairah replied a she floated to her. “In an explosion of life, the Creator brought Terra into existence. All was perfect. No wars, sickness, or sadness. One sun’s cycle the Despiser, his real name lost in time, wished to be worshiped like the Creator so he lied to those of Terra. He told them magic could be used for more than help
ing others, that it could be used to help one’s self and with that, magic became corrupted. So now there is magic of the Creator and magic of the Despiser.”
“Not everyone believes this?”
“No, like the Necroms the Creator has fallen into Myth. Many do not believe.”
“I believe,” Pluck stated as she turned on her side and then she repeated, “I believe. Peaceful night.”
Fairah lifted and she slowly vanished as she said, “Good... Never forget. He shall protect ye.”
* * *
The next sun’s cycle twilight broke over the forest of Naught. Black Feathered Yaws greeted the morning with their high pitched shrills. Inside the Temple, Pluck’s cat ears twitched, hearing two horses approach. “It must be Han,” she spoke to herself, grinning mischievously and scurried for a hiding place.
Han entered the large room, cautiously searching every shadow as she softly growled at him ready to pounce on him.
He told her, “There’s no time for your game this morning, Pluck. We must leave. The prince’s ship shall not wait for us.”
“Leave? Ship?” Pluck questioned a she emerged from behind the statue of the Woolly Tiger. “What do you mean?”
Her abilities had greatly improved since he started training her. He didn't know she was hiding there. Han answered her, “Empress Candiss has died. The time of the new Amalgamation has come. Edward sets sail to collect his betrothed. Together, they shall sail for the Isle of Kismet to claim the crowns of Emperor and Empress. All of the High Guards shall escort him. Great danger awaits all who attempt the crown.”
“All High Guards?” Pluck uttered as she pointed to herself. “You mean even me? Go where I’ll be seen?” His statement confused her and she questioned “But how? Will your men accept me?” She looked to her hands. Her fingers and palms were bare but the rest of her hands were covered in short beige fur like her body.
Han told her, “Pluck, I didn’t train you so you could stay in this Temple forever. You are a High Guard, and one of the finest I’ve ever schooled. Here...” He lifted a long cloak, a pair of boots, and gloves he’d been carrying in one hand as he said, “These shall keep you disguised till the others and yourself become accustomed to your condition.”
She took the brown leather cloak, boots, and gloves.
“Put them on,” he ordered.
Pluck hooked the cloak’s clasp around her neck, pulled on the gloves, and slipped into the calf high boots. She asked, “When will we return?”
Han paused and then answered, “The journey shall take over a season.” He lifted a long object wrapped in a red cloth as he said, “There are two other things.” He showed her a pin.
“A Charging Black Elk, the Fletching insignia,” Pluck exclaimed as she beamed with pride as he fastened the gold and black pin to her cloak just above her heart.
He unwrapped a rapier, a matching main gauche, and a belt with a sword frog and handed them to her.
She took the sword and matching dagger as she uttered, “An Accolade Sword!”
“Yes, the weapon of honor. It’s official, Pluck.” He smiled as pride beamed from his face as he stated, “You’re a High Guard.”
She grabbed the hilt of the rapier, and its silvery brass hand guard twisted over her hand like a vine. Pluck unsheathed the sword, studying its long slender blade.
“The finest weapon in the land,” he said and then Han folded his arms. “Now...” He noticed her tail twitching under her cloak and then questioned, “What are we to do about that?”
Pluck looked back and said, “Watch.” She parted her cloak, revealing her waist, wrapped her tail around herself like a belt, and tucked the tip inside the tail opposite her sword.
Her actions amused him as he commented, “Interesting trick. Your tail is like a third arm.” The sun rose high enough to peer into the Temple’s Eastern windows as he said, “Time we go, come.”
“I will,” she told him as she turned and looked at the room and pool which had been her home for fourteen seasons. “I only have to say farewell.”
Farewell? To whom or what? Had the Protector kept in contact with Pluck? Han shivered at the thought. That place always unsettled him. He told her, “I shall ready the horses.” He left the great room, heading down the hall.
Pluck waited till she heard him leave the Temple and then she yelled, “Fairah! Fairah, I’m leaving.”
“Yes, I heard child,” the Protector spoke as she appeared above the pool and floated down to her. “The commander is correct. Many dangers await all who take this journey. The prince shall many times depend on ye for his safety.”
“I understand that, but did you hear him? I won’t be back for more than a season.”
“What is this face for?” Fairah questioned as she lifted her ghostly hand to Pluck’s chin. “Shall ye miss this old witch?”
“You’ve been like a...” She couldn’t finish with the word mother and said instead, “You’ve been here when no one else was.” She sniffed, fighting back tears as she replied, “So yes, I’ll miss you, witch or not.”
Fairah told her, “Then let me give ye a parting gift. One I have been wishing to give ye these many seasons, but had not the power.” She lifted her hands and green energy swirled around herself, and then the power ceased as she landed on the ground. Fairah smiled again and placed her arms around Pluck, embracing her.
The Protector’s touch startled her, but then she returned the hug. Pluck couldn’t remember a time when she felt more happy or sad. It had been seasons since she felt the touch of another, to feel their love, now she had to depart.
“I don’t want to leave you, but I have my duty,” Pluck told her as she sniffed again, rubbing her panther nose. “Hopefully, I’ll return as I was when I first entered this Temple.”
Fairah stroked her mane as she said, “There... there... child.” The Protector leaned back to look into her face and told her, “I shall be here when ye return. Know that.” She grabbed her furry chin, pulling Pluck’s gaze to hers. “Whether woman or beast, I shall be waiting.”
Pluck nodded, unable to say anything and started for the exit.
Fairah grabbed her left gloved hand, lifted it so Pluck could see, and then told her, “One last thing before ye leave. The marks on ye's finger, they are more than tattoos. They are ye’s connection to the Mystic Rose. It chose ye, remember that. Now ye should be on ye’s way. Han shall be waiting.”
Pluck hugged her again and then ran out.
A tear streamed down Fairah’s face as she spoke, “Look at me.” She wiped the wetness away, before losing her corporeal form. “I am the one who ended up crying.”
Chapter Three
Breakneck and Waterswift
The blue-gray hills of the land of Naught gave way to the flat country of the Flush Plains. Han nudged his horse to pick up speed through the tall blue-gray grass. The steed gnawed at the bit but obeyed as Han glanced at Pluck and questioned her, “You haven’t said a word since we started our journey. Is something bothering you?”
“Many things,” she answered. “Will the High Guards accept me? Is it too late to end my curse?”
If it wasn't, would Edward give her the Kiss or would he save it for his new wife?
Han hated that she kept the cure to her curse a secret all of these seasons and he said, “If you would only tell me what pact you and the prince made, I might be able to help you.”
She stared at the distance shore as she told him, “When I am ready, I promise Han, I’ll tell you.”
He nodded, not understanding but respected her decision, looked ahead, and said, “Time you pulled on your hood. We’re nearing the port.”
Pluck and Han slowed their horses to a trot upon entering the large fishing village. Heron was like any in the Fletching Kingdom. The village had three taverns, a market, many huts, and a baron’s house sat on the hill. Many peasants walked the streets while a few nobles
rode through in carriages. Voices filled the air along with the cries of Gray Gulls as a salty breeze and the smell of fish hit Han.
He pointed as he told her, “The ships are ahead.”
“Han, does the prince know I’m coming?”
The commander halted his steed as he told her, “Pluck, I never told you this, but Edward doesn’t remember you or that sun’s cycle in the Temple. It was too much for him.”
She pulled on the reins as her heart sunk. Pluck stared at the horse’s mane, not wanting Han to see her hurt expression. She had been able to endure the curse because she always hoped one sun’s cycle it would be lifted, but she always assumed Edward appreciated her actions. Pluck put a gloved hand to her chest as her soul ached, knowing her sacrifice was forgotten. She turned to Han and questioned, “If an act is unremembered, did it ever happen? Does it mean anything?”
“Pluck, I remember what you did and what you lost,” Han told her and then he nudged his steed forward, and she followed as he said, “To answer your question, I believe an act good or evil is never forgotten.”
They neared the docks and dismounted. Breakneck and Waterswift, two of the Fletching six masts Royal Navy ships, were loading supplies. Most of the High Guards and their horses were already aboard, awaiting their commander’s arrival.
“We’re to board the Breakneck, that is Prince Edward’s ship,” Han told her as he grabbed his horse’s reins, leading the animal toward the plank.
Pluck started to follow when she heard an old woman’s voice. Outside a supply store, three men harassed an elderly couple. Her emerald feline eyes flashed with anger within the shadow of her hood. “Foul Dreggs,” she muttered and shouted, “Wait, Han! Here...” Pluck handed him her reins and then she told him, “I must deal with these fiendish brutes.”
Han noticed the couple and he argued, “There’s no time for this.”
She faced him, surprised by the commander’s words and questioned, “No time?” The cloak shadowed her outraged face. Surely this wasn't her teacher speaking. Pluck said, “I can’t believe you said that.” She calmed herself and then questioned him, “What’s the High Guard vow?”
All Worlds: Fantasy And Science Fiction Series Starters Page 5
