by Bell Maya
Chapter Eight: The Princess of the Sea
The Faelancers had survived her wolf. Made it into her city. They dared to walk her grounds. An insult she would not forget.
The Queen of the Dark Salt Sea walked the length of her gardens, taking her time to admire each flower that bloomed with the eternal earth she had created so long ago. Flowers of every sort lined the rows of bushes and hedges. Irises, lavenders, marigolds, bellflowers and daisies glowed in their own soft light. She admired them all, but did not touch them as she once did as a child. As the Princess of the Sea, she had found delight in picking the petals from her flowers, or weaving crowns to wear upon her long black hair. But she was a child no more. And flowers were not a play thing.
Perhaps they would brave the bridge and its old Knight. Perhaps they would make it all the way to her castle. For maybe the Queen had a use for such intruders, maybe she admired their tenacity.
For out of all her flowers, the Queen adored her black roses the most.
Chapter Nine: The Knight of Old
The dark figure across the bridge awaited them, as it had awaited countless others. Dori and Hanna, atop their mounts, came to a stop. A knight, taller than both of them combined, guarded the way. In dark, rusted armour covered in vines, thorns and flowers, he seemed more statue than knight. But the pauldrons rose and fell, ever so slightly. Just enough that some life was evident.
The princesses exchanged a glance. They both sensed it. This knight, this creature? It was old, and there was power in that ancient metal. The citizens of Crestus had offered them no challenge in passing through the city, but they knew that they would face challengers when approaching the castle. Guards, soldiers, witches. Whatever this Queen of the Dark Salt Sea employed for her protection, and the protection of the precious Bracer she’d stolen.
Dori brushed a protective hand over the rucksack slung onto Lapadaisy’s saddle. Within it, the future of Sweethearth. Dori glanced over at Hanna, brown eyes lighting with glee at the sight of a challenge. And for a moment, they were just kids again. Loping along the sand trails, racing each other on their ponies, laughing till they couldn’t breathe. Hanna would collect all the shells she could find, and dump them in Dori’s lap as she read her books.
“A gift,” She had said, grinning, ignoring the muddy sand.
The scrape of the dark, double bladed sword on stone snapped Dori from her memory. Here, beneath the sea, there no time to dwell on memories sweet as that. Pink and blue light washed down on them both, warming their skin and hearts as magic flowed through them, transforming them into Faelancers. Darkmouse and Lapadaisy shared in their magic, armour forming on their hides, their reigns turning pink and blue, with irises and roses forming in their manes. With halberd and sword at the ready, the Faelancer’s nudged their horses into a slow walk. The knight, both towering and silent, approached, and waited for them at the bridge. His form was so wide, it blocked the way.
“Please step aside, Sir Knight. We have business with your queen. We’ll not fight you over…a bridge,” Dori offered, already aware it was futile. It didn’t matter. They needed to cross the bridge, and time was not on their side.
The Knight responded with a sudden, and mighty downward swing of his sword. A vine, thick and clawed with thorns ripped up from the earth, separating Dori from Hanna. Their horses skipped to the side, baying, startled at the suddenness of the attack. There was no time to coordinate, no time to decide what their strategy was.
Dori already knew hers. Defeat the Knight, save her princess.
And Hanna’s? Protect Dori.
The vine thrashed out, pushing them further and further away from one another, and closer to the edge of the woods that lined the road to the castle. They had to think quickly. This enemy was powerful, old, and used a deep magic akin to the Witches power in Sweethearth. Hanna urged Darkmouse into a canter, headed straight for the Knight. With a roar, the Knight swept his great sword upwards, and readied it for the approaching rider. Yet at the last moment, Hanna jerked to the side, swerving away from the knight and towards the vine. With a flash of her blade, the vine was sliced in two. Dori circled around on Lapadaisy and urged her into a gallop, halberd lowered. It glowed, the blade burning as they rode against their opponent. The Knight bellowed, beginning the slow yet powerful swing of his giant blade towards them.
“Claw of the Iris!” Dori shouted, and a flash of brilliant light shot from her halberd, three strikes bearing down on the Knight. He grunted at the force of the blow, but shielded himself with the flat of his mighty sword.
‘His sword must be forged from Verrium, then. An old metal. Ancient, even. One of three things able to deflect and protect against magic.’ Dori thought, wheeling away from the Knight. He howled with a growl like a bear and wolf’s combined, and in response, creatures from the woods emerged. They appeared to be wolves and big cats, but their coats were black and riddled with thorns, their eyes a blazing red. With a snap of their jaws and a monstrous roar, they lunged at the Faelancers.
“Blinding light!” Hanna cried, a touch of panic in her voice. These creatures were unlike anything either had ever seen. There was something deeply wrong with them. Something twisted, something dark, had created them. But they too shied away at the force and brightness of Hanna’s spell. Each Faelancer had many spells at their disposal. Enough to keep armies at bay. Yet, they only had so much energy to conduct their magic. And if they pushed themselves too far, exhaustion could defeat them well before the Knight could. And besides that, the fight with the werewolf had proven to be an intense one.
Standing on either side of the dividing vine, the Faelancer’s spared a glance at one another. In those few seconds, a plan formed between them. Almost in synch, the two peeled away from the vine and galloped along both sides of the woods. The creatures stalked closer. A few wolves went in for the attack, but Lapadaisy and Darkmouse were faster. The cold of the night pressed in around them, the gallop of their mounts whisking away the mist floating about.
The hooves of their horses tore up dirt and grass beneath them, spraying dirt in their wake as they thundered at their rider’s command, heaving to a stop and pivoting to twist back around and race for the vine that divided the pathway. Sweat gleaned off the rolling muscles of the horse, her head reared back as she galloped the length of field and its slight incline. In those moments, Dori and Lapadaisy’s heart beat as one. Her cloak billowed behind her, and the sounds of the creatures, and roar of the Knight faded. She had to make this jump.
In three strides, Lapadaisy closed the distance, as her muscles tensed and sprung. They leaped, soaring as one over the divide. As they jumped, so did Hanna and Darkmouse. Heat and wind passed between them, and they landed into a gallop.
Darkmouse and Hanna would be the driving blade to extinguish the Knight. They were swift. Swifter than Dori and Lapadaisy. But Dori and her mount had agility on their side. The agility they would need to defeat the dark creatures nipping at their hooves. The two of them exchanged one final look, and nodded. Their magic thrummed. Hungry, ready to consume the darkness.
Dori and Lapadaisy surged forward, lowering her halberd into an upward swing. The blade burned and crackled as it sliced through the air, Dori shouting, “Wings of Harpsichord!” A slice of light in the form of a single, angelic wing soared through the air, ripping through the field and sending three dark wolves flying. They returned to the woods, yet more creatures took their place.
Hanna and Darkmouse galloped forward, her blade dancing with pink light. There was a daring look in her eyes, as she rode towards the Knight. She waited for her opening, sword ringing. The Knight readied his blade, but Hanna was faster. Too distracted by his minions being reduced to shadows, his sword too large and fumbling, he had no time to ready for her blow. The Rose Faelancer leapt from the saddle and with the grace of a cat, landed on the armoured chest of the knight, her boots landing with a thud similar to a gong being struck. The force vibrated through her legs, but Hanna held strong onto t
he edge of the plate, as she charged her sword into the armour.
“Your service is complete, Sir Knight.” Hanna said, quiet enough that only he would hear.
As the sword and its light beamed, the armour reduced to ashy chalk, crumbling onto the stone bridge. As the Knight fell, so did the creatures. Hanna landed gracefully, ashes billowing around her, and rising into the wind.
The knight was no more. But upon a quick inspection of the cord around her neck, Hanna realised one of the portal keys had shattered. Red glass shards lay scattered in the grass, mocking her. Hanna closed her hand around the remaining portal shard, and felt her heart begin to break.
Chapter Ten: Honey, dark and sweet
The Queen remembered a time, for long ago, when she had first met a Faelancer. Her name had been Orian, a gentle yet dutiful Rose Faelancer. She had wielded the Rose Bracer many generations before the intruder.
And she had been a thief, for she had stolen the Queen’s heart. With silly things, at first. Gifts and trinkets, promises and sweets. And like a fool, the Queen had fallen for such shallow offerings.
In the soft, flickering light from the hearth of her fire-place, the Queen warmed herself. She wore an emerald gown that had once been her mother’s and treated herself to cakes layered in honey and caramel treats. Her people loved her, and the land she had saved with the deep magics was bountiful. Small, but bountiful. Her people danced in the streets when it was time for festivals, worked hard during the day, and slept in peace when night fell. They didn’t have to worry about the constant struggle between the Lunar and High Dawn. They only knew peace, and loved their queen.
But their kingdom needed magic. The old, powerful type. Like fuel, like one needs food, their kingdom required more magic if the barrier and the bubble were to stay as they were. For them to remain in their kingdom of peace and solitude, where no Faelancers could betray them, no bickering Queens demanding their allegiances, they needed to take the magic of the Lavender Faelancer. For the Queen to have her peace, she needed to take that magic, and feed it to the dark power that resided below her castle. To the thing she had come to call an old friend.
The Queen took a long drink from her silver, diamond studded goblet, and called for her servants. She had to know whether her Knight had done his duty, and ridded her of those devious intruders.
Without meaning to, she thought of those first words the shadow had spoken to her in a whisper.
‘Magic is thick, powerful and old. But honey is so much darker, and so much sweeter.’
Chapter Eleven: When the Moon is Fullest
“You cheated.”
“I…certainly did not.”
Dori rose her eyebrows, and sighed. There was little to be done when Hanna convinced herself of something. In this case, it was that Dori had cheated during their last board game. Dori of course had cheated with a slight of hand, but she wouldn’t admit that to Hanna. Instead, she let her vent, and refused to give anything away with her poker face. Hanna got red in the cheeks, but eventually gave up.
“You totally did,” Hanna smirked with an eyeroll. Then, she really did give up. It was one of her quirks, that incessant need to joke about and remind Dori of the mundane when they were headed into certain danger. Maybe she did it to distract herself, or just because that’s how she was. Either way, it reminded Dori to relax the tension in her shoulders. They’d played that game of chess out by an abandoned little cottage, one that sat tucked in the corner of the field between the Evening Woods and the Honey Bee Hexagon Villages. A willow tree had provided shade, while the meadow swayed to the tune of the twilight breeze.
The two led their horses by the reigns, the bridge and the forest long behind them. Together they walked the grounds of the castle, careful to stay to the old overgrown hedges bordering the gardens and its many shadows. There weren’t many about, thankfully. A few groundskeepers strolled about, black-pelted hounds at their sides, but little else. Guards dotted the gates, but the small moat was dry, and easy to clear. Outside, pines formed a natural barrier around the cobblestone walls that seemed to be falling apart. It even seemed to be colder here. Dori silently thanked Harpsicord they’d remained in their transformed state, the magic thrumming around them fended off most of the cold. As they crept through the gardens, Dori slipped her arm around the crook of Hanna’s arm, and held her hand. The red in her cheeks got redder.
Hanna sighed, and rested her head on Dori’s shoulder as she spoke.
“It’s weird, you know? Down here, so far away from everything and everyone. It almost feels like the curse can’t touch us. Back in the palace it feels like I can’t even go a day without someone reminding me of what’s to come. Mother reminds me that I can’t see you, and that slim hope that we could be friends was a pipe dream, something crafted out of false hope. Grandmother makes sure I know each spell in her books, and grimaces when she remembers the Lunar kingdom has the Iris Faelancer this generation. I go the kitchens, and the cooks rush to fetch me whatever they think I want, eager to add some muscles like they’re readying me for an upcoming fight. Everyone in that palace is petrified.” Hanna said, tying Darkmouse’s reigns to a small tree behind an abandoned looking garden shed. Dori tied Lapadaisy to the same branch, taking a moment.
There was a pause in her words, like she wanted to consider them. “Petrified…of what?” Dori feared she already knew the answer.
“Petrified I won’t be strong enough to win our fight. They’re scared, because they fear I’m too soft, and too nice to keep High Dawn in power.” For a moment, Hanna’s eyes lost that gleeful light. Dori swept her into a hug, nestling her nose and lips into the crook of Hanna’s shoulder and neck. “Let’s just forget then. Even if it’s just for tonight, let’s forget about all that. It’s a world away, and all we need right now is to get back the Lavender Bracer and send them through the portal. You have that key that the Priestess gave you, right?” Hanna pulled out a glass charm that dangled from a black cord around her neck, and jangled it. Symbols were carved into the glass, runes from an ancient era of Sweethearth. But this little charm held unbelievable power. And they were rare. Hanna tucked it back into her pink undershirt.
They exchanged a silent nod. This was it. Somewhere in this silent, shadowy castle surrounded by pine, covered with ivy and lichen, the Lavender Bracer awaited them. As they crept from shadow to shadow, and found their way into the abandoned master kitchens now filled with weeds and ferns, the full moon watched, eager to witness the meeting of a Queen and two princesses.
Chapter Twelve: The Queen of the Dark Salt Sea
There was a number of paintings, in the many halls of the castle, that depicted a young woman with tawny brown hair, and countless freckles. Her emerald eyes were piercing, as though she already knew all of your secrets without you ever having to speak a single word. Dori avoided looking at the paintings.
Hanna led the way, her cloak sweeping behind her as she slipped around corners and countless halls. Dori followed, cautious that their footsteps didn’t grow too loud. They’d stumbled upon a serving maid, who it seems was more than happy to direct them to the Violet chambers, a series of dungeons below the castle, where the Bracer was rumoured to be kept. So, with only the occasionally torch flickering in its rusted sconce, the two Faelancers made their way through the castle. Guards filtered in and out of the chambers, but the clunk and jingle of their armour gave them away. And these princesses were swift, and silent, and far too intent on their quest to have some half-trained knight pup stop them now. As the halls darkened and the cold from the outside leaked through the thick stone walls, Hanna took Dori’s hand. She cast her spell of light, and they followed the orb down spiralling staircases, until they reached the finely furnished bowels of the castle.
Violet banners hung, with fine carpets covering the freezing stones, even the torches burned more brightly here, and roses, of every sort, lined the passageways in trestles. No guards down here. No prisoners, either.
“Hanna, are you su
re about all of this?” Dori whispered, her grip tightening on her halberd. She didn’t respond, too intent on finding it. Something whispered to her, something within her had become transfixed. If they found the Bracer, they could break the curse. All would be well.
“We could even move to that little cottage, the one near the Honey Bees…play as many board games as we like…”She muttered, softly. Dori’s heart began to race. Something was wrong. Suddenly, a sharp pain bit into her hand. The Iris Faelancer stopped, gasping in pain as she wrenched her hand away from Hanna’s. A thorn, black as night, was stabbed into her palm. With a hiss of pain, Dori wrenched it out and threw it to the ground. Hanna gasped as well, pulling a thorn from her arm. They two looked at each other, eyes wide. A familiar voice called to them, from the base of the spiral staircase, all the way at the other end of the elaborate dungeon hall.
“Hello, sweet little princesses. What do you think you’re doing in my home?”
It was her. The one with the emerald eyes. The dark hair, and look that knew all your secrets. And, she was the witch they’d saved from the werewolf. Morgana.
The Queen of the Dark Salt Sea.
Chapter Thirteen: The Lavender Bracer
