Berlina's Quest

by James Hartley

  “Now that you mention it, My Lord, we have. Just a day or two ago. In a message brought by a courier, Prince Drailsen said he was touring the eastern lands and might stop in for a state visit when he got near Quince Castle. You were busy when it came. I did not want to disturb you.”

  “Caliban, you are so careless. I really need to know such things, no matter how busy I am. Somehow, a day or so notice seems hardly adequate, but given the great distance and the state of the roads between us, it would not surprise me to hear that a messenger had been delayed, gotten lost, or gone astray. I did complain to King Samsor a few years ago, before he died, that we were in need of a mail service. Nothing ever came of it. With the throne there being held by a Queen Regent until the Crown Prince comes of age, I doubt we will see any changes for a while.”

  “Yes, My Lord. I will send out a messenger, and assuming their purpose is a state visit, I will prepare the castle to welcome them.” It wasn’t long before the Castellan ushered in the returning messenger, who bowed and said, “Your Highness, the carriage contains…er, ah…it contains…oh, yes…Prince Drailsen, himself.”

  The prince looked at the Castellan and whispered, “Is something wrong with him? He seems uncertain, and his eyes have a blank look to them.”

  “I noticed that, My Lord, but I know not what it portends.” The Castellan turned to the messenger and said, “What of the second carriage?”

  “Er, ah…sir, the carriage contains…um…the prince—” The messenger’s voice faded out, and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

  Prince Quince said, “Get him out of here and put him to sleep somewhere. He seemed convinced it is Prince Drailsen, so I guess we must prepare for a state visit. Get everything ready.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  The caravan was moving much slower than the messenger had ridden. It was an hour or so later that it reached the gates of the castle. The drawbridge was lowered, the portcullis raised up, and an honor guard was put in place with a dozen men to each side. The prince stood in the main doorway facing the courtyard, ready to welcome his guests as the troops and carriages of the caravan entered.

  Soon, all of the caravan was inside and came to a halt, but then nothing happened. The prince turned to his Castellan beside him and asked, “Caliban, why is nobody getting out of the carriages?”

  The Castellan shook his head. “I don’t know, My Lord.”

  There was another minute of silence. Suddenly one of the troopers near the head of the caravan pulled out his trumpet and blew a signal. Instantly, twelve horsemen on either side of the caravan drew swords, turned, and struck down the men of the honor guard. As the honor guard fell, the swordsmen spurred their horses to gallop around the courtyard, striking down any other palace guards they could reach.

  The prince and the Castellan stood there with shocked expressions on their faces until several guardsmen standing behind them grabbed them. The guards pulled them back into the castle and slammed the door just before the marauding troopers reached it. The sound of palace guards trumpeting an emergency alarm carried all over the castle.

  “My God,” asked the prince, “what was that?”

  “Treachery, My Lord,” said the Castellan. “A ruse to invade the castle, and I fear maybe a successful one. Considering the number of soldiers they have, compared to what we have left after their cowardly slaughter of our honor guard and those taken by surprise in the courtyard, they outnumber our men by a good margin.”

  The captain of the castle’s guard interrupted at this point. “Your Highness, Lord Castellan, this location is not safe, or at least it will not be for long. You must go to the Chamber of Safety. If things go as badly, as it seems they might, you must be ready to take the exit tunnel that leads from there to the secret stronghold in the village.”

  “Abandon the castle?” asked the prince.

  “The castle could stand an attack from outside, or a siege, but as these villains are already inside and have such an advantage in numbers, defense becomes near impossible. We must gather everyone still alive in the Chamber of Safety and salvage what we can through the tunnel.”

  The prince shook his head in disbelief and then said, “All right, let us go. See if you can leave an observer or two to tell us who did this dastardly trick. I must know who is in those carriages.”

  “Yes, Your Highness. I will do that.” The captain of the guard gave orders for observers to be posted. Then, he and his men led the prince and the Castellan down the passage to the Chamber of Safety.

  As the captain had predicted, it was not long before it became necessary for all those still alive, except for a few brave volunteers, to take the tunnel out of the castle and down to the stronghold in the village below.

  After several days, one of the observers returned to report. “Your Highness, although all the soldiers wore the colors of Prince Drailsen, the prince himself was not present during the attack. One of those carriages contained only one man—a sorcerer. The other had a prisoner and two guards.”

  “A prisoner?”

  “Yes, he wore chains. He had on the royal colors purple and gold, but he was definitely in chains, shackled to his guards. When they took him out of the carriage, he struggled and fought, but to no avail. I tried to see where they took him. I couldn’t follow him all the way, but I think it was to the dungeons.”

  “Could you identify the prisoner?”

  “Not for certain, but based on some portraits I have seen, it may have been the Crown Prince.”

  Prince Quince turned to his Castellan and said, “The Crown Prince? They have kidnapped the Crown Prince? Then, they slaughter half my men and take over my castle just to have a place to imprison him? This is evil incarnate.”

  “Yes, My Lord. It is, but what about the sorcerer?”

  “Find a sorcerer, a witch, or some other magic user in the village. See if they can sense what their sorcerer is doing. Also, if anyone leaves, keep track. Count any soldiers who leave, and if the carriages go, use magic or whatever to see if anyone is in them.”

  “Yes, My Lord.”

  A few more days passed before the Castellan tallied up his information and presented it to the prince. “Your Highness, many of the soldiers have departed but not the carriages. As far as our observer can tell, there are only about twenty of the soldiers remaining in the castle…and the sorcerer.”

  “Only twenty? Why can’t we gather up our remaining castle guards, and perhaps some militia troops from the villagers, and retake the castle?”

  “Because, My Lord, the sorcerer remains and is using magic against us. Our watchers said he was there when the soldiers left. Before they went, he waved his wand around, as if to open an invisible gate for them. He stood in this gate, if such it was, and watched them. When they had reached a distance of six or seven furlongs, he waved his wand again. Here is where our observers all began to doubt their senses, as the moving troops disappeared.”

  “Disappeared? What do you mean?”

  “There is disagreement, but the prevalent story is that they turned into smoke or clouds and faded from view, leaving an empty road.”

  “I would say impossible, but who among us truly knows what a sorcerer may be capable of. Well, continue.”

  “Yes, My Lord. After the soldiers vanished, the sorcerer stepped backward a few feet and waved his wand a third time. Then, he turned, walked across the courtyard, and entered the castle. Shortly after that, one of our observers tried to enter, but he ran into an invisible wall that stopped him from going any further.”

  “An invisible wall? What sort of thing is that?”

  “Magical wards, My Lord. I have here a witch from the village, Madam Clotilde, to explain to you.” He turned and gestured to a woman near the door.

  The witch came forward and curtsied. “Your Highness, wards are a form of magical wall that prevent the passage of men or arms. They cannot be seen by those not possessing magical power, but they are effective.”

  “You say t
hey are created by a magic user, a sorcerer, or a witch? Can another magic user overcome them?”

  “In theory, Your Highness, another magic user can penetrate the wards, but only if that person is more powerful than the one who set them up. Far more powerful.”

  “Can you do anything about the wards around the castle?”

  “A thousand pardons, Your Highness, but my feeble powers do not even come close to what is needed for that. Perhaps some of the witches in the Order of the Flowers could do it. They are very strong. There are rumors that some of those trained by the Order are also extremely strong, but to my knowledge, there are none of them around here.”

  “Madam witch, you need not apologize. You cannot be other than what you are. Thank you for your information. Please stay in touch with my Castellan or my other men, in case we have further need of your services.”

  The witch curtsied again and left.

  “Damn! I suppose there is nothing we can do but sit here and curse that misbegotten Prince Drailsen. State visit, indeed! Make sure everything is kept at the ready. Should an opportunity arise to retake the castle, we must be prepared to seize it.”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  * * * *

  Crown Prince Darvid rattled the bars of his cell. Of course, they didn’t give way. He had been doing it for two weeks now with no results. He yelled, “Let me out of here, you scum. I am a prince!” but that got no more results than rattling the bars. Finally, he gave up, went over, and sat down on his bunk.

  “Damn,” he muttered to himself, “there must be some way to get out of here.”

  “No, there isn’t,” said a figure in sorcerer’s robes who suddenly appeared in the corridor outside the cell. “The man whom I serve has charged me with keeping you here, and keep you here I will.”

  “Who are you, and who is the man you serve? Why am I being kept here?”

  “I am Flamencius,” said the sorcerer, “but the name of the master I serve must remain secret. Suffice it to say that you will remain here until your birthday has come and gone. In the absence of a crown prince to take the throne of Jylyria, another will be chosen as king.”

  “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “Ah, but I think we will. Your mother has troops out searching for you, but she will never look this far away from the High Palace. In addition, her court sorcerer Zatarra is working to mislead her, to send her men on wild goose chases. Now, it is time for your supper. Eat hearty, fair Prince.”

  Flamencius turned and left as three guards approached the cell. Darvid jumped up and walked to the door of the cell, but two of the guards poked spears between the bars and forced him back. The third man unlocked and opened the door. He placed a tray with a bowl and a cup on the floor, then closed and relocked the door. The other guards withdrew their spears, allowing Darvid to approach the food.

  He picked up the spoon next to the bowl and tasted its contents. “Porridge again? I am a prince. Can you not feed me food that fits my station?”

  The three guards laughed and walked away.

  When they were out of sight, Darvid began to eat. In between bites he muttered, “One bowl of porridge a day. If I weren’t so hungry, I’d throw it in their faces. And I’ll bet the wine is sour, as always.”

  When he finished what was in the bowl, he drank the cup of wine, grimacing at the taste. Finally, he went over to his bunk and dropped down onto it. After an hour of tossing and turning, he eventually managed to fall sleep.

  When Darvid awoke, he had no idea how long he had slept, nor any way of telling what time it was in the underground cell with no sunlight. Someone removed the dishes from his meager supper.

  For a few minutes, his brain was befogged from sleep. Then, he remembered the dream he had been having—a dream of his sister Berlina coming to his rescue while waving a wand. He shook his head in disbelief. “Ridiculous. If they kidnapped me, they probably kidnapped her, too. Even if they didn’t, Mother certainly wouldn’t let her go off like that. She’d lock Berlina up somewhere safe.”

  He paced back and forth in the cell, the image from his dream swimming in his head. The wand that dream-Berlina held bothered him, although he was at a loss to say why it was so upsetting. Finally, he tired of pacing, and he went over and rattled the bars.

  “Let me out, you misbegotten polecats!” he yelled at the top of his voice.

  There was no response until, much later, his supper arrived. Once again, porridge and sour wine. He choked down the bowl of mush then drank the wine. It was as bad as ever, but tasted stronger and made him drowsy. He lay down on his bunk and fell asleep almost instantly.

  Darvid was not happy when he awoke—having again dreamed the dream of his sister with the wand—the next day…and the day after that…and the day after that.

  Chapter Three

  Happy Birthday, Sweet Thirteen

  Five years before the kidnapping of the Crown Prince, it had been Princess Berlina’s thirteenth birthday, and the palace was open for the celebration. The nobles and the wealthy brought gifts for the attractive blonde birthday girl. Those who could not afford gifts came to offer their best wishes, which was understood. There was food and drink, music, and dancing for those who cared for it. It was a happy occasion, going on all day.

  Halfway through the afternoon, three women in strange robes entered, accompanied by a young girl with snow white hair. The girl appeared to be about the same age as Berlina. They made their way to the princess, and one of the women said, “Your Highness, my name is Forsythia, and these are my assistants, Gladiola and Chrysanthema. We bring you a gift, but of a different sort. Not the usual gift.”

  “I thank you, Forsythia,” said Berlina, “but what strange names.”

  “We are members of a co…er…an organization known as the Order of the Flowers, and we take floral names when we join.”

  “Interesting. What is this unusual gift you speak of?”

  “We bring this young girl here to be a companion and friend to you. She comes of her own free will and wishes to take this position. She is a free citizen, not a slave. Should Your Highness find her services unsatisfactory, she would leave, but we do not think that will happen. Her name is Felistia.”

  Felistia curtsied, and Berlina said, “Welcome, Felistia. I hope your companions are right, that we shall become friends. Sometimes, it does get lonely here in the palace, and at times, I have wished for someone to keep me company.”

  Forsythia continued, “Your Highness, in addition to being a companion, Felistia has a special talent that you might find useful from time-to–time, but it is best that we not reveal it in public. Is there a private chamber where we could talk and show you?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Berlina. “Follow me.” She led the three women and Felistia down a side hall and into a small room. When they all entered, she turned and locked the door. “There. Now, we should be private enough. What is it you wish to tell me, show me?”

  Forsythia gestured to Felistia. The girl’s body seemed to melt into shapelessness and then reform. Instead of a girl, there was now an extremely large, fierce-looking snow white wildcat sitting on the floor. Its fur was the same color Felistia’s hair had been. A low rumbling noise was coming from the cat.

  Berlina gave a gasp and jumped backward, away from the cat. “What is this?” she asked. “Do you choose thus to attack your princess?”

  “No, Your Highness. You have nothing to fear. You are in no danger.”

  Berlina took another look at the cat, cocked her ear to listen more carefully, and then broke into a smile. “Ah, I thought the cat was growling at me, but it is purring! Amazing! Perhaps you can explain?”

  The women said nothing, but the cat once more melted and reformed, becoming again the girl Felistia. “Your Highness,” she said, “I am a shape shifter. In addition to anything else, in my wildcat form, I can protect you if danger arises. Will you accept my services?”

  “Of course, of course, Felistia. I was just
startled. Yes, companion and bodyguard. This is a wonderful birthday gift.” She put her arms around Felistia and gave her a hug.

  Forsythia spoke again. “Perhaps we have another gift for you. There is a little game. We will show it to you, but not all can learn to play it. If you can learn this game, I can say with great certainty that you will like it. Do you want to try?”

  “Why not?” asked Berlina. “If I can learn it, fine. If not…well, you tried.”

  The woman pulled a long, slender, and wooden wand from her robes. “First, I’ll demonstrate.” She pointed the end of the wand at a flowerpot on a windowsill. She raised the wand, and the flowerpot rose into the air, following its tip. She held it there for a moment, then lowered her hand and let the pot return to the sill. “What you have to do is build a picture in your mind of the wand growing longer, until it touches the object—the flowerpot. Then, picture the end of it grasping the pot. When you raise the wand, the image in your mind has hold of the pot and raises it, too. Do you think you can do that?”

  “I don’t know,” said Berlina. “I never heard of such a thing, but you did it.”

  “Yes, I did,” said Forsythia. “Here, take this and try it.”

  Berlina took the wand, and with a look of concentration on her face, pointed it at the flowerpot. After a moment, she raised the tip a little. The flowerpot wobbled, then rose into the air until it was a foot or so above the sill. It hung there until Berlina lowered the wand and let it sink back to the sill.

  She looked at the wand, at the pot. Turning to Forsythia, she exclaimed, “By the wings of a wyvern, that’s terrific! But…does it only go up and down?”

  Forsythia, who was now smiling, said, “What would you have it do?”

  “Maybe move sideways? If the mental image of the wand is grasping the pot, could I move it from one end of the sill to the other?”

  “Why don’t you try it?”

  Berlina pointed the wand and raised it. This time, the pot rose smoothly with no wobbling. When she had it in the air, she moved her hand sideways, and the pot floated to the other end of the windowsill, where she put it down. With a smugly satisfied look on her face, she said, “Yes, it works sideways, too. I guess I qualify to play your game, right?”