The Battle for Princess Madeline

by Kirstin Pulioff

  Without hesitation, Sophia stood and curtsied, leaving the group to their plans. She glanced back once to see if Braden noticed.

  “Such a polite girl,” Elias said, winking knowingly at Braden. Braden coughed and his face turned red.

  King Theodore led them in the direction of his study at a brisk pace, his face clear and hard as stone, his robe billowing as they walked. Madeline reached over and squeezed Braden’s hand for reassurance. He squeezed back. Elias trailed, watching the siblings as they made their way into the castle.

  Their footsteps echoed through the hall and up the stairs. King Theodore’s study was a wonder, filled floor to ceiling with books, maps, tapestries, and curious items from his travels. His favorite artifact, a handcrafted model ship, rested prominently on the corner of his desk.

  King Theodore cleared his desk with the sweep of an arm and unrolled the parchment that he had been hiding in the sleeve of his robe. “Your mother, was a wonderful woman, too wonderful for me,” he said. Madeline and Braden’s heads flew up. “She knew… strange things… and I found a special message she wrote for you two.” He rolled the parchment out and stood to the side. Madeline and Braden rushed over to read the words.

  Madeline read it twice to make sure she didn’t mistake anything. Braden stood to the side with a deep scowl when he finished, his anger seething through his tightened jaw.

  “I don’t understand,” Madeline said, looking back and forth between her father and Elias. Worry and wonder shone in her emerald eyes.

  King Theodore pinched his lips together and opened his arms to hold her, the rich velvet on his robe soothing her as she leaned into him. Elias explained, weariness and sorrow evident in his eyes and furrowed brow.

  “Princess Madeline and Prince Braden, although this may not make sense right now, I need you to try and understand.” He looked at them both and continued when he was satisfied that they were listening.

  “Your mother was a very special woman. Extraordinary in all that she put her hand to, and it appears that she put her hand to more than I was aware of.” He coughed to clear his throat before continuing. “You see, Queen Eleanor came from a gifted family of wizards, each member skilled in magic. Some members have chosen to develop these talents, and some have chosen to forgo them and focus on a more traditional life. There is no right or wrong choice, but it is a unique choice only available to those in our bloodline.”

  Elias’s eyes continued to go back and forth between the two young people as he spoke. “That choice is usually made on your sixteenth birthday. Every person descending from the wizard bloodline must make that choice. If they forgo the magic and choose a traditional life, the magic leaves them, and their children do not have that option. When Eleanor reached her sixteenth, she chose circumstances that brought her to your father and her life as queen. I believed that she had chosen tradition over magic. I was wrong.”

  Elias leaned over the desk to point at the lettering on the parchment. “What your mother chose was this,” he said. “Naturally gifted, she knew about events long before they took place. She has detailed some of them here,” he pointed to the cryptic phrases, “and some, we may never interpret.”

  “What do you mean?” Madeline asked.

  “Your mother knew that the age of dragons was coming, and that we needed powerful magic to win. In her last breath, she wove a spell to give each of you, if you chose the path of magic, half of her skills on top of those you were naturally born with. She knew that something was coming, and that her sacrifice was the only way the kingdom could survive. Now comes the tough part,” Elias said, searching each of their faces in turn. “You both have already passed your sixteenth birthdays, in the summer. There was no way for your father to know, to prepare you, or to let you know what your options were. Neither answer is wrong, but we need to know.” Elias dropped both hands on top of the desk. “The morning of your sixteenth birthday, what did you choose? Did you choose the path of magic or the path of duty?”

  Braden jumped up. “How dare you, a stranger, an exile, pry into our personal choices?”

  “Braden,” King Theodore said, still holding Madeline close. “That’s enough. This man has every right to ask you. He was one of my closest advisors.”

  “But Father,” Braden pleaded. “He is an exile. He let our mother die. Why should we believe him or answer his questions? He knows nothing about us.”

  “He knows more than you think. Please answer the question. He is here to help.”

  “Father, I don’t understand. This man is our enemy. I’m not going to trust him with my life, my feelings.”

  Elias stood back and watched the fireworks between the two of them, noticing their similarities. Braden was a mirror image of a younger King Theodore.

  King Theodore saw the confusion and anger in his son’s eyes. There was only one way he would relent. “He is not our enemy,” the king began. “He is your uncle. Now, please, think back, this is very important. What was your choice?”

  Braden looked up at his father. He pulled himself together. “I didn’t choose it, Father. I chose to follow in your footsteps.” Both King Theodore and Elias lowered their eyes.

  “I didn’t know, Father, I didn’t know,” Braden said, his face pink with embarrassment and regret.

  “Madeline?” King Theodore asked, holding her away from him so he could see her face, searching for a different response.

  All eyes were on her. She felt the weight of their hope. Her mind began to spin as she looked from eye to eye, face to face. The color drained from her as her eyes settled on Elias. “I chose our mother,” she said. She collapsed in her father’s arms.

  She drifted into the dream, a thick white haze in front of her, guiding her forward. Lifting the hem of her white dress, she ran, as fast and as far as she could. A voice whispered her name, “Madeline, sweet Madeline.” She turned to the side and caught a glimpse of something green and sparkling fading into the forest. She ran deeper into the fog, trying to catch it, feeling eyes following her. She didn’t stop until a thick fog surrounded her, leaving her alone but not afraid.

  Elias, King Theodore, and Braden all knelt beside the princess, calling her name. They didn’t notice the snow starting to fall in the courtyard.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A light mist floated above the ground and beneath the forest trees. An eerie quietness clung to Prince Paulsen’s camp, as if the mist had blanketed his men’s minds.

  The sun went down and the crickets were chirping as Prince Paulsen began pacing. The air grew cooler and the tension thicker as he looked each man in the eyes, terrorizing each in turn. The men tried to remain calm, to appear tougher than they were. Hours passed while the silence grew, more intimidating than any words could have been.

  Prince Paulsen scratched his chin, reveling in both the feel of the rough skin under his fingertips and the appearance of the group in front of him. In one week’s time, he had gathered an army to fight for him. Maybe not the King’s Knights, he thought as he watched one of his new recruits relieve himself by the fire, but it mattered not. He had enough men to achieve his goal.

  Finally, the prince stopped in front of a man wearing a crimson shirt and torn brown leggings. His curly hair stood straight out in all directions.

  “What’s your name, sir?” the prince asked, thinking he looked rather familiar.

  “Sir, my name is Roone.” He jutted his chin out.

  “Roone,” he mused. “That’s an interesting name. Any chance you know Sir Antoine Roone?” His eyebrows lifted, but the man stood still, showing no signs of recognition. Antoine Roone, the infamous mercenary, was willing to do anything for the right price. His lack of scruples had earned him the nickname, ‘The Monster of the Woods.’

  “I do not know that name, sir.”

  “Just as well; he is a monster, after all.” Prince Paulsen smiled as he saw the corners of Roone’s mouth turn up at the insult, knowing he had the right man. “Either way, Roone, you’re perfect for
a special job I have in mind.”

  “Gentlemen, woodsmen, fighting men…” Prince Paulsen stopped to look around. Scanning the gathering crowd, he adjusted his thoughts. “On second thought, moneymen!” Everyone cheered.

  “I am here to offer you what you have been dreaming of, what you have been looking for, what you have been killing for,” he continued with a wink. “Too much has been withheld from us, and now it is time. We will take back what should be ours!” He thought of Madeline.

  The snow began to fall through the trees.

  “Men,” he yelled, raising his sword, “Help me throw down the king and secure your wealth. Are you with me?”

  The roar was so loud the forest animals ran deeper into the woods. The wind stopped blowing, as if the kingdom was holding its breath.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Madeline tossed in her sleep as the visions of fog became more and more clear. Her nose and eyebrows wrinkled as she felt the mist on her face. No fear plagued her as she walked through the soft white shadows. With each step, she moved deliberately towards a figure in green.

  The figure stayed out of reach, beyond this tree, then behind another, giving Madeline a direction to follow, but no help. They danced around the trees for what seemed to be hours, until she found herself at the mouth of a dark cave.

  Before she could react, she heard a soft whisper floating in the breeze. A gentle, soothing voice, singing in the wind, whispering her name. “Madeline, sweet Madeline. Come see. This is where you’ll need to be.”

  Madeline glided forward. The dirt was soft and the air clammy and cool against her skin. Her heart beat faster and faster the closer she got to the cave. The bravery she had felt disappeared, and trepidation took its place. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and stepped into darkness.

  “You must come here,” the voice said, echoing off into the walls. “You must come here.”

  Princess Madeline startled awake, sweat beading on her face, heart pounding. Wiping her arm over her forehead, she closed her eyes, trying to sort out what was real and what was a dream. It took her a moment to register that she had been moved back to her old room in the castle. The soft pink blankets were crumpled together at the foot of her bed, evidence of her restless night. She didn’t use this room very often anymore, preferring the tower, but tonight, it was comforting.

  Her head spun. A message from her mother, wizard powers, dragons—what had her mother known? And what was she getting herself into?

  She needed to find answers. One thing was certain: she was not going to find them sleeping. She sat up and rolled out of bed.

  The brisk air cooled her face as she made her way through the quiet corridors toward the library. Her slippered feet made soft taps on the stone floor. She turned the corner, surprised to see the candles burning already. Someone else had gotten the same idea. Curious, she crept to the door, peeking around the corner to see if she wanted the company or should go to her father’s study instead.

  She let out a sigh of relief when she saw the robed man hunched over the table. One hand traced the designs on his parchment; the other rubbed his temples. Feeling her eyes on him, Elias sat up and turned to look.

  “Hello, Princess,” he said with a smile, stopping his work and waving her in. “I’m glad you’re up and feeling better.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Madeline replied with a shy smile. She walked into the library. “Yesterday was an interesting day,” she said, approaching the table. “What are you doing up at this time?” she asked, thinking of her own reasons for being up so early.

  “This is the best time of day for me,” Elias said. “Most people are still asleep, the sun is waiting to make its appearance, and the silence in the air is a welcome calm that helps get me through the chaos that comes later.” He paused for a moment in reflection. “It gives me a moment to myself, to recharge, focus, and grow before the weight of the day.”

  Madeline sat down across from him at the table and rested her elbows on top. “So, tell me, when you made your choice, what was it like?”

  Elias smiled and leaned forward with a whisper. “It was magic,” he said. “For me, it was wonderful. It gave meaning and focus to my life that I had never felt before. It was as if that missing piece of me had been found and put into place. That feeling, that knowing that you’re where you’re supposed to be, doing what you’re supposed to be doing…” he said in wonder. He looked at her, but her eyes were turned down, and she was biting her lower lip.

  “Then, the hard work began,” Elias said, gauging what she needed to hear. Madeline smiled. “Just as you learn from your tutors, wizards learn from our elders. We may have gifts, but they still must be trained and developed. The wizard training grounds here in the castle were below the grand hall, where the new dungeon is. Back then, they were filled with excitement, danger, exotic smells, and spices. It was a hall of learning, divining, and teaching. There was so much to study. There still is. Not a day goes by without a moment of learning and growth. Those are the cornerstones of a wizard’s life—teaching, learning, and mystifying. Sometimes that last part is the most fun.”

  “Are we all wizards then? Those that choose that path?” she asked.

  “No, not at all. That choice simply means that you accept the special gift. How far you choose to develop it depends on you. The gift could be divining, premonition, or something else; it all depends on what interests you, what natural skill stands out,” Elias said, hoping to put her more at ease. “Since you are already past that initial stage, you might have already sensed something new.”

  Princess Madeline rested her head in her hands, thinking about her nightmares. “It seems like every day there is something new. It just feels like there is so much to learn, a whole new world that I didn’t even know I was a part of. Like this,” she pointed down at his parchments. “What does this mean?” she asked, pointing to a symbol on the maps in the shape of an arch. “I’ve seen them all over Professor Warren’s maps, but he doesn’t know what they mean. They look like the Dragon’s Gate arch.”

  Elias looked down, “Oh yes,” he said. “They have a special meaning. Those mark the gateways to magic and marvels.”

  Madeline looked at him with her own smirk. “Elias, please.”

  Elias grinned back. “Those are the markings of the openings of the ancient tunnels that were built for direct travel between regions. They were used by the wizards for communication with others without arousing suspicion.” Elias reached over the table and held Madeline’s hand in his. “Madeline, I would be honored to help instruct you and guide you. We’ll make sense of it together.”

  Madeline looked at their hands and saw the love in his eyes. She nodded. “I would like that, Elias.”

  The sun peeked in through the window. Beautiful rays of crimson and orange shone down on the parchment.

  “Time to welcome the day,” he said, rising and collecting his papers.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The air was frigid, a cold, blustery night that made their lips shrink and their arms press against their bodies for warmth. Snow slushed beneath their feet, and the winds howled defiantly, blasting them with chills as they continued through the woods, twigs crunching under their footsteps. They could see their breath, like steam out of a bull’s nostrils before its attack. A ragtag bunch, they didn’t march in any traditional formations or wear any customary armor. Nor were they united in their reasons for fighting. Some were pledged to uphold the honor of their prince, others came for money, and a few were simply out of their minds. Whatever their reasons, Prince Paulson used them to his advantage. With this last chance to acquire Princess Madeline, failure was not an option.

  The morning sun continued to rise. They reached the outer edge of the forest and came upon the small community of thatched houses, stables, and farmland that surrounded the castle. Light trails of steam rose from the roofs as the warmth of the sun beat down. A handful of chimneys were smoking with morning fires, and the aroma of fresh bread fille
d the air. A dozen of the men were up early in the fields, organizing tools, hitching up horses, or making final preparations for the fall festival. They worked, oblivious to the growing mob at the forest’s edge.

  Prince Paulsen lined his men up, quieted their grunts, and regained their focus. “This is it, men, here is where we start: the king’s village. They are nothing but poor workers, weak fighters, and fools. Let’s show them what happens when they keep things that are not theirs. Take no prisoners and leave no spoils!”

  The men grunted in response, lighting their torches and marching through the golden wheat fields towards the village.

  The villagers had little time to react. Looking up from their work, they saw the mercenaries coming at them with raised torches. When a half-dozen mercenaries dropped their torches in the field, fire streamed through the air toward the villager’s homes. Confusion gave way to fear as the first house went up in flames.

  Screams rose through the air, and the men ran for weapons. The women and children fled towards the castle walls, babies wailing as their mothers threw them up on their shoulders and ran with all their might up the hill, not looking back in fear of the enemy’s approach.

  Prince Paulsen’s men were thorough. They touched their torches to each home in the village, laughing as the roofs erupted in flames, the fire eagerly eating the homes and all the items within. Fights broke out over the gold and heirlooms that weren’t destroyed by the fire. Metal clanged against metal. Prince Paulsen raised his sword.

  “Men!” he yelled. “We do not stop here; this battle continues to the castle! Onward!” he shouted, kicking his horse.

  Stomping to the front, he led his mercenaries out of the town. Smoke billowed up in their wake, showing their path of destruction to all.