Waking the Prince

by Shawn Lane

  “Perhaps it is then.” Roland laid his hand on Magnus’s arm. “Today we go?”

  “I fear that any more delays and Veronious will set someone upon us. Even now they might be on their way. We have been lucky up to now, Roland. I do not trust that luck.”

  Roland swallowed. “Very well.”

  Magnus pulled him into an embrace and squeezed him tight. “I know you are afraid. I swear I will do all I can to protect you. I would give my life to keep you safe.”

  Roland rested his head against Magnus’s shoulder. “Let us hope that will not be necessary.”

  Chapter 8

  “What do you want, Lorenzo?” Veronious asked, not bothering to turn from the large black pool he stood over. He added items to the pool.

  Lorenzo took hesitant steps to stand beside Veronious. He peered into the dark water. “What is this you are doing?”

  “I am creating a spell. You have news?”

  Lorenzo cleared his throat. “Prince Roland and his protector, the warrior, Magnus, are about to enter the forest of thorny vines in front of the cursed castle.”

  He nodded. “Yes.” He uncapped a small bottle and poured some of the contents into the water.

  His servant leaned far over the water now, gazing deep into it. “What is this spell?”

  Veronious eyed him, irritation flowing through him, but he shook it off. Impatience and ill temper would get him nowhere. “If the prince gets through the thorns—”

  “Then he must contend with the dragon,” Lorenzo said.

  “Yes. And on the chance they defeat the dragon and enter the castle, my spell will take care of matters.”

  “It is a spell for the prince then?”

  He added one more ingredient. “As he approaches the sword and then removes it, he will prick his finger upon it and fall into a sleep of a hundred years.”

  Lorenzo gasped. “That is brilliant, my lord. Is there no way to end the sleep spell?”

  Veronious shrugged. “The kiss of his one true love. But since Roland has been isolated his whole life in Amir it is doubtful he has ever met his true love.”

  He filled an empty bottle with the potion, turned and walked to a clear bowl of water. Lorenzo followed close on his heels. After waving his hand over the water, an image of Prince Roland and the warrior, Magnus appeared. Veronious poured the contents of the bottle over the image of Prince Roland with a wicked smile.

  * * * *

  Roland stumbled into Magnus’s back just as they approached the forest of thorny vines.

  “Easy.” Magnus put a steadying hand on Roland’s arm. “Are you unwell?”

  He shook his head. “No, just a little dizzy. Or I was for a moment. It’s gone now.”

  Magnus continued to stare at him, dark and intense until Roland was tempted to squirm under the scrutiny.

  “Truly, I am well.”

  “Let us move forward.”

  Magnus turned his back on Roland once more as they continued the few feet to the beginning of the forest. They’d left Magnus’s horse a few hundred yards back as he would be unable to go through the vines. In truth, Roland did not know how they would. Though it was called a forest, it was made up of only vines covered in thorns, black wicked looking thorns so thick and ominous Roland thought they were alive and breathing.

  Beyond the thorns, of which there were hundreds and hundreds, all tall and twisted, seemingly impenetrable, was the imposing castle itself. And of course, the dragon. He could see no such creature waiting for them, but Roland had no doubt it was there ready to pounce.

  He followed Magnus closely, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword just as he noticed Magnus doing. He did not deceive himself into believing he was a respectable warrior in so short a time of training, but he intended to be ready for battle come what may.

  Magnus stopped just before the beginning of the thorns and studied them in silence. To Roland, at that moment, they seemed ordinary thorny vines except for perhaps their shiny ebony color. Perhaps his earlier impression of them being alive and breathing had been the mistaken imaginings of his nervous mind.

  “Slash through them,” Roland urged. “What gives you pause?”

  “It is never wise to act rashly. I just wished to study them first.”

  Roland snorted. “They are just thorny vines.” He withdrew his sword and hacked at the nearest one, severing it easily. He walked through the opening he had just created.

  “Wait!”

  Before he could move more than a foot the vines reformed and wrapped around Roland’s torso squeezing him tight in its grasp, his lungs seizing, his heart pounding hard. He screamed.

  Magnus gave him an exasperated look. “Hold still, impetuous one.”

  “I c-can’t breathe.”

  “You’re speaking, you’re breathing. Hush.” He removed a dagger from his boot, and sliced through the thorn-covered vines wrapped around Roland.

  He dropped to his knees, drawing in a breath. “Thank you.”

  “Hold still a moment.” Magnus did not move. He waited. Then after a while, when the vines did not reform, he helped Roland to his feet.

  Roland looked down at the ruined vines and saw they oozed a liquid red substance that looked very much like blood. He wrinkled his nose.

  “There is a trick to this forest, my sweet prince. If it were so simple it would have been penetrated by armies of men long ago.” Magnus touched Roland’s arm, then gestured with a tilt of his head toward twisted vines to the left of their position.

  A partially disintegrated skeleton was held in the embrace of vines similar to the one Magnus had just freed him from.

  “Oh.”

  “Come, we proceed with caution.”

  And so they did, hacking through vines sometimes as many as three or four times before they did not grow back. Always they bled like the first ones. Along the way, Roland spotted more men trapped for eternity among the thorny vines and he could not help his gratitude that he was here with Magnus and not foolish enough to come by himself.

  The thorns and vines went on seemingly endlessly. He began to think they would never reach the castle entrance where the dragon lay in wait to deal with them.

  “Perhaps the dragon has perished after all this time,” Roland said hopefully. He sliced through a vine and wished they’d be through already. His arms were getting tired swinging the sword.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, has he not been waiting many years to deal with invaders of the castle? If none venture beyond the vines, then he may have grown bored and moved on or died.”

  Magnus shook his head. “It is not how things work, Roland.”

  He sighed. “I feared you would say so.”

  Roland trudged on, following after Magnus as he hacked through vine after vine. He kept his gaze on everything going on around them and his sword at the ready. But no matter how far they seemed to go in the forest there were still more vines and thorns to greet them.

  “Magnus, I think we are trapped in here,” he spoke up.

  “Nay, there will be an end eventually.”

  “It is a terrible maze.”

  “Yes.”

  “We will get lost and starve in here.”

  “Have you always been so pessimistic?” Magnus asked. He stopped in front of a particularly wicked bunch of thorny vines.

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” Roland frowned. “What is it?”

  “I am fairly certain this is our way out.”

  He perked up at once. “Then let us slash through.”

  Magnus cast him an incredulous gaze. “Have you learned nothing in this time? Be still, Roland.”

  Roland bit his lip but fell silent as Magnus continued to contemplate the thick black thorny vines.

  Magnus nodded after a while. “Listen carefully. These are slightly different than the others. I believe that if we act fast and run through as we cut them we can escape without having them seize us. But you must be quick. One small hesitation and the
se vines will wrap about our necks and strangle us.”

  His stomach turning slightly queasy, Roland stared at the vines. “How can you be certain?”

  Magnus shrugged. “Who said I am? It’s only a guess.”

  “A guess? This is what we risk our lives on? A mere guess?’

  “You have another idea?” Magnus raised a brow at him.

  Of course he did not, as well they both knew.

  “Very well. So we both slice the vines and run through as we are slashing?”

  “Yes. Ready?”

  “No, I—wait!”

  But Magnus had raised his sword, so heart in his mouth, Roland did the same, slashing down and across the vines, running through as fast as his legs could take him.

  As he made it through, he fell to the ground and rolled away from the forest of thorny vines. Magnus rolled, too, until they were far from them, and on some sort of winding stone path to the entrance of the castle.

  Heaving several heavy breaths, Roland rose to his knees. “I can’t believe we made it.”

  “Indeed. I am glad that worked. I had my doubts.”

  Roland shook his head, guessing he would never quite understand Magnus. He glanced at the castle. “It is abandoned?”

  “More or less. It is cursed.”

  “It looks in good shape for having been cursed. How long has the castle been under this curse?”

  Magnus shrugged. “Hundreds of year. Back when the warrior, Montcrief, was an old man.”

  “And what is this curse? Is there more inside the castle?”

  “Yes. You will see. If we make it inside.”

  His stomach gave a sickening lurch. “If?”

  “Look behind you, my prince,” Magnus said.

  He pointed and Roland turned to see a giant winged reptilian-looking creature eyeing them malevolently and standing just off to the side of them, close enough Roland could feel his hot breath on his skin. “The dragon has arrived.”

  Chapter 9

  Magnus watched Roland lose all color and take a step back and behind him. He could hardly blame the young prince. Dragons were daunting under any circumstances, let alone being faced with the first one. And this particular one was quite impressive.

  The dark green reptilian creature just stared at them with crimson red lizard eyes. It cocked its head to the left, then to the right, over and over, but made no move toward them. Upon its massive back were two huge wings that, when fully extended in flight, would stretch far across the sky. It had not yet bared its teeth, for which Magnus said a small prayer.

  “Magnus?” Roland asked in a small voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Does this dragon breathe fire?”

  “Have you ever known a dragon who did not?”

  Roland’s hands grasped the back of Magnus’s mail shirt. “I have never become acquainted with a dragon before this.”

  He nodded. “Then I shall have to advise you that it is very likely.”

  “You have fought a dragon before?”

  “A few. Raise your shield, your highness.” Magnus raised his own, but noticed that Roland still gripped the mail shirt as though his life depended on it. “Roland, your shield.”

  Roland’s hands fell away and Magnus spared a very brief glance to ensure the prince’s shield was up and his sword at the ready. He turned back to face the dragon.

  “Take a step toward the castle,” he ordered. He felt Roland move, kept his gaze on the beast that now watched Roland quite intently.

  “You do realize if that thing spits fire at us these shields aren’t much protection,” Roland said, taking another careful step, this time as Magnus moved with him.

  “There is that small detail.”

  “Small?” Roland’s voice squeaked.

  The dragon smacked his lips, not a good sign, Magnus decided, and Roland whimpered.

  “Remember, Roland, this is your destiny, you were fated to slay Veronious,” Magnus said. “The prophecy did not indicate you would be eaten by a dragon.”

  “Burnt to a crisp?”

  Magnus smiled at that, though it was hardly a jovial matter. “Nay.”

  “Nor singed?”

  He shrugged. “It does not say so, but I suppose with a fire breathing dragon one can never tell.” He eyed the beast. “On the count of three, we are going to run for the castle.”

  “Like cowards?”

  “Have you a better idea? Besides, I am quite sure it will chase us and we will be forced to face it. But it is better than standing here waiting for it to bake us, do you not think?”

  “Well.”

  “One, two, three.”

  Magnus began to run for the castle entrance and was glad that Roland had not hesitated and was also running, perhaps actually a bit faster than Magnus.

  The dragon roared and stomped loudly after them, squealing its outrage, hot steam sweeping over them as it got closer.

  He waited until Roland reached the castle gate ahead of him, then Magnus turned toward the beast as it hovered over him, opening its mouth as though to either swallow him or scorch him with fire.

  “Magnus!” Roland yelled, then to Magnus’s shock, Roland leapt in front of him, sword and shield raised. “Be gone, you vile creature.”

  The prince began to hack at the dragon’s legs, swinging his sword and beating it back, and if Magnus had not witnessed it with his own eyes he never would have believed it, but the creature backed up several steps.

  Deciding to cease gawking and join the battle himself, Magnus swung at the dragon, the two of them working together to drive the beast farther back. A particular slice of Roland’s sword into its arm caused the dragon to scream in pain, as blood spurted out from the wound. It reared up and Roland swung at it again, darting underneath it, this time cutting its leg.

  The dragon’s wings flapped and more steam blew from its nostrils. Roland held his shield up in front of him as fire burned out from the dragon’s mouth. The fire reflected back from the shield and at the dragon.

  It screeched in pain and rose up in the sky and flew up and over the thorns. They watched it long after it had flown away.

  Magnus then turned to Roland to see if the prince was injured. “Are you hurt?”

  Roland shook his head and lowered his shield and sword. “You?”

  “Nay. I-I’ve never seen anything like it. How did you?” He couldn’t even seem to form full sentences. But truly, he had never seen the like before. Magnus almost felt as though he should drop to his knees and pay homage to the prince right then.

  “I do not know,” Roland admitted. “He was about to get you, so I knew I had to do something. I am not sure where the power came from.” He looked at the shield. “It seems an ordinary shield and yet, what it just did, I do not understand.”

  Magnus nodded and touched his hand to Roland’s cheek. “Some things we are not meant to understand perhaps. Shall we enter the castle and seek the sword?”

  “Yes, onward.” He offered Magnus a smile, which he returned. Magnus felt a little odd, nonetheless, for he had thought he would be there to keep Roland safe and fight the dragon for him, yet the young prince had just surely conquered the dragon and saved both their lives.

  * * * *

  The gate groaned and creaked in the eerie silence that had descended over the cursed castle as Magnus shoved the bolt aside to open the gate.

  From the outside the many turreted castle, it seemed abandoned, perhaps in a hurry. The once beige stonework had faded and slime and mold covered the lower half of the imposing structure. There was a moat, dry now, and the drawbridge had been left down, at least making it easy for Roland and Magnus to cross into the castle.

  “What is this place exactly? Who lived here?” Roland asked. His body still thrummed with an odd energy and he found it difficult to stand still.

  “It was the palace of a great kingdom at one time,” Magnus explained. “Those that escaped through the gates just before the curse did not live long. The curse follow
ed in its own way I suppose.”

  Roland nodded and began to walk across the drawbridge. “All were killed inside?”

  “Not exactly, no. The warrior, Montcrief, had been a protector of the kingdom, had saved the king and queen many times over, but as he aged his power became less and his wisdom as well. In his old age he trusted a protégé who ended up betraying the kingdom.”

  Magnus stopped halfway across the drawbridge and looked down into the dry moat. “Look, Roland.”

  Roland took the few steps to where Magnus stood looking into the moat. There in the dirt, weeds, and debris were many human bones. He gasped and shrank back.

  “I thought you said all were not killed.”

  “Inside. Those outside the castle at the time of the curse were killed at once.”

  Roland frowned and stayed with a hand on Magnus’s arm when he would continue to enter the castle. “What of this curse, Magnus? If we step inside will this curse affect us?”

  “I do not believe so.”

  “But you know not for sure?”

  Magnus shrugged. “Anything is possible, your highness.”

  He resisted rolling his eyes. “Very well. Let us go.”

  Though he was in no particular hurry to be cursed, Roland didn’t want to delay this part of his quest any longer. There was no telling when the dragon might decide it was up for round two and be back.

  “Why does not Veronious send men here to stop us from obtaining the sword?” he asked.

  “Why waste an army of men when thorny vines and a terrible dragon will do the trick for you?”

  Made sense, so Roland simply nodded. They paused just inside the entrance, the air thick and heavy with dread.

  “Magnus, I—”

  Magnus arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”

  “‘Tis naught.” For a moment, Roland thought to speak of his growing feelings for Magnus. In the moment before he might die seemed a good time to speak. But he felt foolish revealing such tender emotions to the gruff warrior. What if Magnus did not feel the same?

  Magnus smiled, a gentle smile Roland thought was likely meant to reassure him all would be well. He wasn’t so certain he believed it, but Roland smiled back.

  “What about light? Shouldn’t we find a torch to light the way?”