To Rescue a Princess
A One Shot for Summer 2024
Ralinor scrambled up the embankment thick with sodden mud. As long as he held onto the birch trunks he would make it, the weight of his plate armour be damned. Tied to a branch of an oak tree his pack mule brayed, making his steed whinny. Neither could make the climb up the mud slide of a hill but the route around the mountain would take a day, a day he did not have. Reaching with his gauntleted hand he caught the next birch tree and hoisted himself up a few more sucking steps. If he didn’t slide back half the time his boots threatened to come off in the mud, if they weren’t threatening to come off he was stuck. The more he climbed the more the hill seemed a mountain, like Fell Peak or Catigar’s Spine. He’d climbed both and would have preferred either to his current trial, but Princess Sophia was not at the top of Fell peak or Catigar’s Spine she was up this unnamed mound in a tower he hadn’t known existed three days ago.
The mud sucked at his boot as if cursed and Ser Ralinor cursed in turn. He growled, his boot slipping free and landing into another mud trap. Resting his forehead against a white trunk to catch his breath he thought back to the young squire who’d reported Princess Sophia missing. Trussed up like a hog the boy had recounted the tale between tears of sorrowful rage and bouts of anger at his failure and the Prince’s betrayal. Princess Sophia’s betrothed, Prince Corin, had ventured to Garth with his father, King Corin IV, as a means of continuing the good relations the neighbouring lands shared. Yet, King Corin had vanished, along with his retinue, in the late afternoon, Prince Corin later that night. What at the time seemed odd was now obvious. Corin’s queen had been absent, the Prince overly nervous, his father keeping to his apartments between meals. Usually a royal visit was a time of hunts, tours, and pageantry, yet it had seemed dour. Ralinor sighed out his annoyance at the signs, none of it would do him any good, and he continued his climb up the forested mountain.
His feet were soggy, his boots ruined, and he was exhausted. Perhaps trekking around the mountain rather than over it would have been wiser, Ralinor didn’t know. He was never one for weighing options, he chose and he did, consequences be damned. That was likely why he’d been sent to rescue Princess Sophia alone. A letter in Prince Corin’s luggage had revealed the vague destination for him and the Princess and Ralinor’s knowledge of Garth and its surrounding lands, villages and all, did the rest. He should have rode with others but had insisted he travelled faster alone, and as Knight of the Garter the King agreed his skill was enough. Oh Ralinor regretted his bombastic claims now, sure he was the best with spear, bow, and sword, but even one Master of the Sword could still be overwhelmed. Ser Ralinor sat atop the peak, the treeline a few yards below him but the upper reaches of the birches swaying overhead. King Osta was marching on Corin’s castle at Morgant as he sat atop the mountain, more of a hill in truth. Ser Ralinor caught his breath and gazed across the peak that snaked towards the horizon, a river of stones through the trees leading to a tower, well hidden by massive, dead, elms. A coldness emanated from the moss ridden tower. A coldness that soured Ralinor’s mood and warned of great evils. There was a glint from the uppermost window, and Ralinor knew he’d been sighted.
Ser Ralinor darted along the stoney path that dipped, dove, and zigzagged along the ridge of the peak. Stretching to his left were rolling valleys of birch trees and heather, to his right a great lake, a fishing hamlet, and elm woods. Any other day and he might have stopped to enjoy the view but now all that was in his sights was the tower, Princess Sophia, and capturing the Corins. A tall ask for a single man but the chance of King Corin being in the tower was slim and the Prince, not known for his swordsmanship, would likely pay with his life.
The world grew dark and cold the closer Ser Ralinor came to the tower. At first he thought it was the sunset yet the sun still arced through the sky, a pale white disc behind a midnight sky. An icy breeze blew up from the lake yet the knight sweated as much as he had when climbing the muddy embankment. There was only one explanation; sorcery.
‘May the Titan guide my sword,
May the Lady bless my shield,
May the Smith hold my armour firm,
May the Shadow turn his ire on my enemies,
May the Angel clarify my mind,
May the Thousand Eyes share their visions,
May the Warlock shroud me from magics,
So that my ancestors may look upon me with kindness,
My descendants with pride,
May my King reward my duty, my Queen my loyalty,
And may the Lord grant salvation.
Somagasa.’
The prayer passed his lips, revivifying his spirit and honing his mind for the task set before him. He reached the foot of the tower under the shadow of dead elms and surrounded by bountiful purple heather. Moss hung like rope from the dried elm branches and clung to the lichen coated stone. He circled the tower until he found the door, solid and locked. Whoever was inside knew he was here but that didn’t matter, his sword was sharp either way, his shield warded to repel spells of any kind, or so the court magician promised. Ralinor didn’t have a mind for magicks, couldn’t feel the sinews that hung in the air, always out sight but never out of reach, or so the magi, sorcerers, and village witches said.
A swift kick and the lock burst apart, the door flying open. He raised his kite shield and advanced into the gloom, his sword balanced across the brim. A gout of fire came crashing down and erupted with unrelenting fury in the centre of the room. Wings of gold unfurled from his shield, diverting the flames away to the sides and up into the crisscrossing beams that held the tower up. A staircase coiled around the edge while oak so old it turned black lay in the threes east-to-west and then north-to-south at intervals suggesting floors long since discarded. Burgundy drapes caught fire, moth eaten and faded tapestries along with them. Soon nothing but the cold, dark stone remained. The ancient oak beams burned bright too but they, at least, would hold for a time. Ser Ralinor sweated in his iron cage, for once wishing he’d worn leather and chain. No matter, he thought, there was no turning back now. He began to climb the spiral stairs, his shield angled towards the never ending fire blasting from the centre of the room. He looked up but all he could see was the underside of floorboards, had the spell been a trap or had it been cast. Ralinor didn’t know and, in truth, it didn’t matter.
Ralinor crossed the threshold that had once been the second floor and the fireball whisked out of existence. His eyes glowed and each time he blinked great yellow lights flared, blinding him for a few seconds each time. ‘Surrender! Return the Princess and I will offer you a quick death!’ He yelled, his voice hoarse from smoke. There was no chance Prince Corin would take the offer but it bought the knight time to recover his vision.
There was no response in words but people were scurrying about the top floor of the tower, dragging something that kicked and wiggled. Ralinor knew at once it was the Princess Sophia and hurried up the worn stone steps two at a time. A woman’s scream pierced the air as a door slammed shut. Ralinor burst onto the top floor of the tower, shield up, to find an empty room. A cage stood in one corner, gate open, with hay for bedding and the faint scent of urine. Two stools had been shoved underneath a large reading lectern, a heavy leather bound tome propped open atop it. The words were indecipherable to Ser Ralinor, the illustrations of purple suns, knives, and flames equally so. Another scream rang out.
‘Be silent!’ Prince Corin barked.
‘Place her on…’ another man’s voice was cut off as the door slammed in the wind.
Ser Ralinor sprinted to the door and found himself looking out over the hilly forests. Snow raged overhead, gathering on the low merlons that ringed the stairs all the way up to the roof. He climbed and saw the lake to the east but it was frozen over, the hamlet so thick with snow it was almost buried. How long had he been in the tower? He raised his shield, wary of the magicks in the air.
At the height of the tower, as the blizzard raged around them, the wind howling and battering them this way and that, he found Prince Corin, Princess Sophia, a man in loose robes fastened with gold buttons, and an older woman laying unconscious on a stone altar with a ruby studded tiara about her head.
‘Stay back!’ Prince Corin drew his sword, his hands trembled with the weight of it. ‘Stay back!’ The blade of the arming sword was etched with his house crest and a motto in an ancient tongue. The cross-guard was a pair of wings made from gold, the hilt supple leather, with an eagle’s head pommel. A sword for show.
Ser Ralinor hunkered behind his shield and slowly advanced on the Prince, his own sword plain, the leather on the hilt dark and worn from days and days of training, the pommel a simple disc of steel. Corin’s hands trembled, his teeth chattered, his eyes welled. Ralinor noticed how smooth his chin was, how his cheeks were still a little chubby. How old was he? No older than Sophia, still a child or perhaps barely a man…
‘Halt, ser knight!’ The robed man called. He held a serrated knife in his hand, Sophia with the other. She was chained hand and foot, a gag tied about her mouth. Her dresses were soiled, torn, her hair a tangle of knots. ‘I have promised the boy prince his mother’s life for this one, a simple trade BUT if you interfere both will die. Do you understand?’ His teeth were oddly white, his eyebrows bushy, and his cheeks as gaunt as a corpses.
‘Release the Princess and no-one has to die,’ Ser Ralinor said. It was a half truth at best, the knight wouldn’t kill them but the gallows might still have been in their fate.
The robed man cackled, ‘Fool.’ He dragged Sophia to the foot of the altar, the snow swirled about him. The Princess struggled but to no avail. Corin’s mother lay on the stone breathing shallow breaths, her skin pallid, her arms scrawny. She was ill, deathly so, but sorcery was not going to save her, Ralinor understand that much at least, why didn’t Corin.
‘Prince Corin, witchcraft cannot treat disease, you must know this? That man is lying!’ Ralinor maintained his guard but ceased his advance.
Prince Corin flicked his gaze from knight to wizard then Sophia to his mother and back to Ralinor, tears crawled from his eyes. ‘You’re wrong. Father believes him, so do I.’
Then King Corin IV was a fool too, Ser Ralinor thought. ‘I am not a learned man nor do I pretend to be but one thing I do know is that magic cannot heal. Such power resides with the gods, and the gods alone.’
‘LIAR!’ Prince Corin bawled. He lashed out with two sloppy strikes, only one clashed against Ralinor’s shield.
The knight did not return blows, not yet, although a broken arm would teach the young Prince a thing or two. ‘What’s your name, wizard?’
‘You may call me Master Lavoy,’ he set a series of coloured marbles on the stone altar. Princess Sophia had been chained, arms wide, to the underside of the stone slab. She pulled and kicked, tears streaming down her face, but the chains were solid. ‘I thank you Prince Corin, without you and your father’s offer I’d have never been able to satisfy my Lord.’
Corin turned, expression a flurry of confusion and sorrow, ‘Save my mother! That’s what you’re meant to do.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Ralinor whispered. He charged for the wizard. Corin’s sword swiped across him, smashing into his shield. ‘That fiend is not going to save your mother!’
‘Get back! He will!’ Corin hammered a series of blows against Ser Ralinor, each ringing the kite shield like a bell.
Ralinor didn’t want to kill the boy but in that moment just maiming him was more difficult. He parried a blow and cut the Prince’s thigh. Corin howled but the cut only made him berserk. All the while Master Lavoy stood behind the altar, hands above, and began reciting some ancient verse. ‘Get out of my way!’ Ralinor rammed Corin with his shield sending the boy sprawling over the stone. His sword clattered to the edge, the heavy pommel pulling it over the side. Ralinor sprinted to the altar. A blast of etherial wind threw him back. Coughing he found his feet to see a great tear in the air, rippling black and purple over Corin’s mother. The boy was crying as he charged at Ser Ralinor and pounded on the knight with his fists. ‘I am not your enemy, child!’ Ralinor plea fell on deaf ears. He shoved the boy back and carved a line in his upper arm, deep enough to make the limb useless.
Mastor Lavoy lowered the blade to the neck of the Queen, ‘Yul bok canasefra. Kol hari gistacikl. Tel vol ashar!’ The blade slid across the woman’s neck, blood sluiced over the stone in great bubbling waves. Rivers of crimson spread through rivulets in the stone and reached the marbles, each began to glow in turn. The tear in the sky widened, a clawed hand grasping through. The snow swirled in a vortex overhead obscuring the world beyond the tower.
‘Mother!’ Prince Corin yelped and cried. Before Ralinor could stop him the Prince ran, one arm limp at his side, and launched himself at the wizard. A vicious swipe caught him across the chest and neck. Sophia screamed through the knotted gag, kicking and thrashing against the chains and ropes that bound her. Blood trickled over the lip of the stone to land on her shoulder. She screamed louder. A yellow and green demon fell from the tear, blood and ragged skin covering one set of claws. Its tail twitched, its horns shimmered, two red eyes bore down on Master Lavoy as the beast snarled from a dog-like visage.
‘Kill the knight!’ Mastor Lavoy ordered.
Ser Ralinor stared slack jawed at the crumpled body of Prince Corin, twisted and carved in the drifting snow. A dogged snarl snapped him out of his stupor, Princess Sophia was his charge and she yet lived. The demon leapt at him, claws first. Two enormous hoofed legs slammed down, cracking the stone slabs that formed the roof, as a four taloned paw swept across Ralinor. The knight raised his shield in response, the wards glowed red when the claws connected and Ralinor was driven back.
‘You, my child, will now serve host to a far greater, more refined demon,’ Master Lavoy cackled as he strode around the altar to Princess Sophia. ‘Youth and health are so delicate and rare, royal blood and etherial qualities even more so, but you, Sophia, you are perfect.’
Sophia screamed, tugging at her chains once more, but still the iron held firm. Blood welled around her wrists from the strain, a pool spread beneath her.
‘No need for fear. It will be like sleeping. The Queen was too ill to serve as host, but you… you are capable of hosting a grave and powerful demon of the void,’ his wizened hand stroked her cheek, the long black nails grazing her skin. The Princess winced as he cut her. He licked her blood from his nail and shivered, ‘Raw power.’ He raised his hands to the purple tear, ‘Hosmofar, ulichton…’
Ser Ralinor panted as the fell beast prowled towards him. Sophia sobbed and wailed at the foot of Master Lavoy, the wizard chanting his summoning magicks. The demon’s double kneed legs were wide set, wide enough to dart through, but its arms were long, its teeth vicious, not to mention the sweeping tail. A wrong move and Ser Ralinor would be impaled, crushed, bitten, or swiped off the edge of the tower into the blizzard below. If there was a blizzard below, the world he’d known was the turn of spring to summer, replete with the usual rains, but the tower was elsewhere. How he didn’t know, nor care at that point. He charged at the demon, shield up, and swiped for its knees. A claw slammed down on his shield, the wards igniting once more into two golden wings that flashed red and white under the strain. His shoulder groaned, his bones aching. He felt his steel bite into leathery skin and sluice of midnight blue blood poured out of the beast’s leg. The glittering blood ran like mercury along the stone. The demon roared with slavish anger, drool gathering along its knife-like teeth and gums, it swiped and kicked. Ralinor caught the claws with his shield, his bones ringing, and ducked beneath the kick, he slashed left and right as he rolled beneath the demon. Two more gashes streamed. The wind was knocked out of him, the tail slamming into his side, and he flew across the roof. He landed hard and rolled to the edge of the tower, his armour dented and cracked like his ribs. The demon approached, snarling and limping. Ralinor peered over the edge of the tower, there was no ground below, no ledge to aim for, only swirling snow and mists and certain death. He forced himself to standing, wincing as he moved, and surged towards the demon. The beast clawed at him from the right, swerving under his sword swing, to grab him. Ser Ralinor was lifted off the roof, the demon’s claws tightening around his middle like a vice. He coughed and sucked down ever shallower breaths. A rail of teeth neared with wave of sour breath. Ser Ralinor had too much pride to cry out and too much grit to accept the end.
‘Kalis taramote TUL!’ Master Lavoy’s chant reached a crescendo. The purple tear undulated, a blue-black light gathering at its centre. ‘Ulmus, ulmus, ulmus,’ the wizard repeated again and again.
Ser Ralinor’s world had become fangs and warm breath. Drool slicked down his neck and he felt the first incisor pierce his skin. ’NO!’ He cried and jammed his arming sword into the demon’s cheek. The beast reeled backwards, palming ineffectually at Ralinor. The knight jabbed a second and third time, catching the demon’s neck and pitch black eye. He was dropped and landed in a heap on the stone, splints of pain shattering up his legs and spine. The demon recoiled, shimmering blood steaming against the snow splattered stone. Ser Ralinor pressed his advantage even as his body tried to refuse. He aimed for the demon’s throat, legs, and middle. He roared and plunged his sword into its leathery neck and the fiend lay dead at his feet.
A blue-black ball emerged from the purple tear, the gate into the void, and began to descend towards Princess Sophia.
‘Kasartus ulmus, kasartus ulmus,’ Master Lavoy guided the spirit down to its host.
Ser Ralinor sprinted and impaled the wizard. He arched backwards with a gasping whimper, blood pooling in his mouth as he slackened on the sword protruding from his stomach. The spirit shivered and hung in the air, lost. Ser Ralinor dropped his sword, the wizard along with it, and scattered the marbles in one swoop. The glowing orbs of glass dimmed, flying through the air and off into the mists. The tear in reality shuddered and shrank, a great gust of fell wind howled sucking the blue-black spirit back to whence it came. With a thunder clap the tear sealed shut and silence overcame the tower.
Princess Sophia hung from her manacles, unconscious, her tears frozen to her cheek. Ser Ralinor freed his blade from Lavoy’s corpse and jammed the blade in a link of chain against the stone, a sharp lurch snapped the metal, and bent his blade. The second chain he snapped broke both blade and chain but the Princess was free, the binds about her ankles mere rope. She did not stir as Ralinor lifted her up, small and precious in his arms. He carried her across his arms and descended the tower in clammy silence. When he reached the bottom it was spring once more. The Princess awoke in his arms bleary eyed.
‘I can walk,’ she croaked, throat hoarse from screaming. ‘Prince Corin?’
Ser Ralinor shook his head and wished he’d brought his cloak to wrap around the girl. Alas they’d have to make it back to the horse and mule but that wasn’t so bad, it was at least down hill. Sophia leaned against the knight and he put his arm around her and together they journeyed home wishing to put this sordid affair behind them.
Thank you for reading!
That was great writing. I'm surrounded by very talented people who could best any bard at an inn.