To Protect A Princess

Chapter Two

Corban stared at the growing pile of parchments on his office desk. They covered the maps he had been pouring over, obscuring his view of the world.

More and more sightings of Wyverns in the Draken Empire’s neighboring kingdoms had everyone on edge. They knew what it meant. Change was coming.

When the Draken Empire had been destroyed, the dragons and wyverns had fled. Some Raiders had managed to leave with their creatures… most had not. Their bond had been severed and they had been left soul-less.

Drake’s High-dragon had not been seen since, and most thought the magnificent creature either captured, or dead. Corban could not deny or confirm either thought.

“Have you been staring at these for the last hour?”

Ortic’s shadow fell over the table and Corban lifted his gaze, frowning at the Mage. “No.”

“Liar. You were never particularly good at it.” The man sat down in his high-backed leather and wood chair, ankle crossing over one knee.

Corban chuckled and leaned back in his own. Ortic had been one of the few in Castle Drake who had helped him grow and come to his full potential. “Has the Makutu said anything else?”

“No. She still says she can only see ocean and cliffs.”

“Damn.” Corban’s gaze moved from the mage to the window. The sun was starting to set on the horizon. The sky dancing with pinks, yellows, and reds. “We are running out of time. It will not be long until Melinoe finds her. She has more resources than we do.”

“That she does. But our followers are loyal. They want to see Nymeira on the throne.”

“Don’t we all?”

He had not seen the child since she was little. Those pale blue eyes had always been full of mischief and love for him. She looked up to him like a big brother. She had been the sister he had never gotten as a child. Most people had thought her dead. Corban knew different… there was—something—which told him the Princess was still alive.

Screeching bought him out of his thoughts, and he looked to the window again. Climbing to his feet, Corban walked to the huge panel of glass and pushed it open.

Wyverns.

The whole encampment was encircled by the two-legged serpents, two-deep in some places. They preened and postured, their wings flapping as men, women and children stood transfixed and more than a little frightened.

Corban turned and ran from the room and out of the building, which had become the headquarters of the resistance. The courtyard was packed, with both human and creatures alike. Wyvern Raiders grabbed tack and rope from the stables, running at the large creatures, trying to calm and bridle them. A few took flight, screeching at the attempt of being controlled again. Some stood their ground and allowed themselves to be harnessed.

Corban stopped at the edge of the encampment, staring at the circle of wyvern. Even at the height of the Draken Empire, there had not been this many.

The creatures started to quieten, their wings ceasing to flap and their snake-like heads not jerking around as much. Their beady eyes, smaller versions of their larger cousins settled on him and the crowd fell silent as the creatures started to croon to him.

His stomach churned with the sound… So long since he had heard it.

Twenty years.

Since the last time the High Dragon had roosted on the battlements of Draken Castle.

Stepping further into the circle of wyvern, Corban eyed them, waiting for sign of an attack… there was none, and he sighed in relief, now seeking out the leader.

At apex of the courtyard, surrounded by brighter females, was one lone male. A male he recognized from the times of Draken Castle.

Darkened in color and covered from head to tail in spines and tendrils. It squawked to its companions and they crooned back at him. Walking toward it, Corban heard the crowd behind him start to murmur again. Wyvern were notoriously violent and here he was, placing himself in a large circle of them… unprotected.

He stopped as the creature hissed and showed two huge fangs, before its long, scorpion-sting tipped tail, whipped up over its head. It hovered above Corban, ready to strike down at the first sign of threat. The females around him followed suit and the crowd’s murmurs grew.

“Where have you been Old-one?” Corban reached out his hand and earned another hiss, but he didn’t move his hand. “Really? You came all this way, just to threaten me? After what we’ve been through? After how long I’ve known you?”

The wyvern hissed again, but its tail moved, snaking back behind it again and the creature’s head lowered. It started to croon as well. The guttural sound was almost music to Corban’s ears. This band of wyvern—was theirs. Their army was growing.

The thrumming of the wyvern grew in intensity as he reached out, placing his hand on the top of the creature’s head. Along with the crooning, he could feel the pulse of the sound as it reverberated through its skull and into his hand.

“That-a-boy… you know what is going on, don’t you? Tell me.”

The wyvern lifted its head, stretching it back toward the sky and let off a peeling squeal.

Most people covered their ears, crying out in shock and pain. The other wyvern followed their leader’s cry and Corban frowned.

Turning, he walked back toward the beginning of the circle and stopped by Ortic, “We have to make a move. Now.”

“What? Why?”

Corban looked into the old mage’s eyes and tears came to his own. “Reglin is dead.”

****

Nymeira huddled in the corner of the shack. She had moved Reglin’s body hours ago. He had been so light. Wrapping him in the furs and taking him to the edge of the cliff had been easy.

Pushing his body over the edge had not been.

Standing over the cliff as she watched his body sink into the ocean had been even harder.

His soul would be gone now. Merged with the Noor-Blume.

If a mage were strong enough, a tip in the powers could be felt through the lands. It would not be long until someone guessed what had happened and they would come for her.

Staring at the bed he’d been in for so long, tears still flowed freely. He'd been a father to her longer than her own had. There was nothing left now.

This shack and the island in which they lived, held nothing for her but loneliness.

The sun had set hours ago. The darkness barely being held back by the fire. She had thrown the leg of mutton in the pot. While she did not want to eat, she knew she had to. It was almost ready; she could smell the juices dripping onto hot iron. The cheese and flour had been left in the basket by the front door. She would use them when she ran out of meat.

Wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve, she sniffed.

There were not many options for her now. She could stay and try to make a living here on her own… but she knew eventually, she’d be found.

By whom… she didn’t care to think about.

Frowning, she lifted herself and walked to the fire. Taking the meat from the pot with a cloth, she dumped it on a plate and picked at it. Wincing at the heat, soon she was devouring it in huge chunks, not realizing how hungry she had been.

With a belly full of mutton, Nym leaned back on the chair and stared into the fire.

Reglin was in a better place now. His body had been given back to the earth, his soul back to the magical powers which he had been born.

She was still here. Still the daughter of a murdered king, living in exile.

Fresh tears sprung to her eyes and Nym lifted her legs, resting her head on her knees and for the third time that day, she cried.

****

“You can’t go.”

Corban looked up from the pack, the tunic hanging in his hands, “I have to. Nymeira is out there, vulnerable. I have to get her back here as soon as possible.”

Ortic frowned, watching as he packed. “The Makutu has spoken to you, hasn’t she?”

Shoving the tunic into the pack, he closed it with the buckles on the front. His sword was in its scabbard, hanging on the back of the chair.

“Corban.”

He sighed, “Yes. She told me to go south. She sensed Nymeira’s presence on the South of the Fell Islands.”

“That’s dangerous territory Corban. The savages on some of those islands have been known to shoot down wyverns.”

“I’m not taking a wyvern.” He replied, lifting the pack, and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m going alone.”

The look which passed over Ortic’s face was priceless. It reminded him of the morning he found Corban stuck up at tree at seventeen, unable to remember how he’d gotten up there, “Are you serious? Do you have a death wish?”

“Quite possibly.” Corban picked up his sword and held it tightly in his hand. “But I failed Nymeira once before. I will not do it again. I want to be the one who brings her back. She needs to have someone she knows, come for her.”

“But she doesn’t know you. The kid who helped her escape and the man you have become since are vastly different. You know that.” Ortic followed him as he left the room and walked down the stairs. “She’d be more likely to run in the other direction. Or if Reglin taught her well enough, run you through with a sword.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“And leave the kingdom without its Lord Commander? What then? Do we hide until Melinoe comes and slaughters us in our sleep?”

Corban rounded on the mage, glaring at him and the man shrank back, hand lifting in defense. Blue flame danced across the skin of his palm and Corban sucked his tongue over his teeth, “I have to find her Ortic. If I do not, no-one else will except for those who work for Melinoe. You saw what that woman did to Drake. I can’t have her do it to Nymeira.”

He turned, leaving the mage, and walked across the room, ignoring the look of the troops. They had seen the altercation, thankfully they had not seen what had frightened the mage.

Leaving the building, Corban walked across the courtyard and through the encampment, strapping his sword to his belt as he went. Pushing his hand through his unruly curls, he lifted his head and looked at the wyverns roosting in the trees.

The wyvern he’d spoken to earlier, lifted its head and watching him getting ready. After a few moments, it crooned at him and he walked over to it.

The wyvern snaked its way down the huge tree, plopping onto the ground and its head lowering to his level, a deep rumble coming from its chest.

“I’m sorry, Old-one. You can’t come with me. I need you to stay here and protect everyone else. Can you do that for me?” Its head tipped to the side and he reached out, scratching it between the eyes and it crooned at him again. It pushed its head forward into his hand more and its croon changed in pitch. “I know it’s dangerous. But it’s worse if we sit and do nothing. Don’t worry. I will bring her back. I promise. We will have Nymeira back.”

Stepping away from the creature, Corban turned and headed south, ignoring the confused looks of the people of the encampment. He had to go. There was no other way.

The Fell Islands was where Nymeira was.

The Fell islands was where he would go.

****

“Have you heard? Someone spotted a high dragon.”

Nymeira paused by the side of the barn and flattened her back against the old wood.

“Where? Not here?”

“No silly. North. Near the Draken Empire. There is been wyverns up there too. They’re heading back to the castle.”

“Don’t be daft. The Draken Empire is broken. Scattered through the world like dice in a game. Queen Melinoe won’t allow the Draken Empire to flourish again. Plus, no-one has seen the Princess Nymeira for twenty years.”

Nym flattened herself even more against the barn and closed her eyes, hoping she could melt into the wood. This was what she’d been afraid of—talk of wyverns and the Draken Empire making it this far.

“Well, if she is going to be found, guarantee Melinoe will be the first. Not that upstart Lord Commander of the Draken Empire.”

Nymeira’s stomach fluttered as her eyes snapped open. Lord Commander? Who would have been so bold as to take on that responsibility?

Not one of her father’s guards, who were in line for such a title, had survived the m******e. She’d seen their bodies as Corban had taken her out of the castle and into the forest.

The chatter died off and Nymeira stepped toward the corner of the building and popped her head out the side of it. The couple of men, who’d been talking were retreating down the hill and she sighed in relief.

It wouldn’t be long until the villagers would see the smoke from the cottage. She’d set light to it before she’d left; following Reglin’s instructions to destroy all evidence of them being there, if he ever died.

Adjusting the pack on her back, Nymeira stepped out of the shade of the barn and continued across the field. She had to get to the northern coast of the Fell Islands. From there, she could make her way north, through the Kingdoms of Kalros and Vosne and into her homelands of the Draken Empire.

She longed for the mountain air, for the sweeping plains and dense forests. The sweet smell of wildflowers as they perfumed the late afternoon air and the crooning of wyvern and dragon alike.

She just wanted to be home.

Nymeira scaled the fence and dropped nimbly onto the grass on the other side without a sound. She gave Reglin one thing… he’d taught her well in battle. She liked to think she fought as hard as any of her father’s soldiers and hoped it would be enough to keep her safe until she found her people.

Continuing her journey, she calculated in her head, it would take about a week to make it to the Draken Empire. If she could secure safe passage across the Divor Sea.

Slipping past a few carts, nodding sweet hellos on her way, Nymeira ducked into the line of scraggly forest and ignoring the droning in her head, she walked further into a place she knew would protect her.

****

Corban was exhausted. Travelling so far, so quickly was taxing on his strength, not to mention his mind. Without a travelling companion, his thoughts often wandered aimlessly.

The Fell Islands.

Savage creatures wrapped in savage beauty. Almost one hundred islands in which Nymeira could be hiding. He’d have to ask the tough questions and hope someone didn’t hear him and go running to Queen Melinoe.

Settling down in front of the fire, he stared at the flames as they danced, and his mind wandered again.

“Come on, Corban! No fair!” he pounced to the side, missing the wooden sword to his stomach with a chuckle.

“You have to fight harder than that, Little-one, if you are going to be a soldier.”

“I’m not a soldier! I’m a princess!” the sword was discarded into the dirt and the little girl crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.

Corban sighed and stepped forward, crouching in front of her. “Of course, you are, Little-one. But you still need to know how to fight.”

“I don’t want to learn how to fight. I’ll always have you to protect me…”

Corban’s mind faded the vision from him, and he closed his eyes, frowning. “Oh, how very wrong you were, my Little-One.”

A tear tracked down his cheek, the first in twenty years and he brushed it away with the back of his hand. Sniffing, he opened his eyes and climbed to his feet, retrieving the small bird off the stick over the fire and sat back down. Picking at the small fowl with his fingers, he forced the memories of Nymeira from his mind.

It would do no good to him to think of the princess from when she was a child. She was now twenty-six summers old. Ten summers younger than himself. But no doubt just as hardened, especially if Reglin had done his job properly, and not coddled her. What her stepmother had done to their world was unspeakable and they had both suffered immensely. Nymeira wasn’t the only one to have lost their family that day.

Tossing the picked-clean carcass into the fire, Corban leaned back on the log he’d found and closed his eyes, wishing sleep to quickly come upon him. He still had a long way to go.