LIVE! & First Chapter
Dec 14, 2024 7:05 am
Hello Happy Readers!
Today it goes LIVE!
The story of Jelena (Marcus and Megan's daughter) and Master Dylan is Live!
First Chapter excerpt:
From the moment Mother insisted that I wear a traditional skimpy leather outfit to greet the suitors visiting from faraway mage clans, I started plotting to ditch the castle. No way was I spreading my legs open for some chief’s son I had never met, so he could claim my soul on my eighteenth birthday three months from now.
This year, I turned eighteen, and that was the eligible age to enlist for training in the fae warrior guild, which enrolment day was tomorrow. So, to go there was my plan to escape castle imprisonment for the rest of my life. I’d gladly offer a limb if Birkim allowed me to join one of the four warrior guilds at the Court. Father had once belonged to the Wolfsbane Court, but that unit was the toughest, which went to fight beyond the wall. So if I ever got the chance, I would choose the Catnip Court.
But there was no chance of that happening with any of my guardians’ blessings, and Pivirio watched me like an eagle - literally, expecting me to do something reckless. I’d give it an hour before Pivirio or Birkim caught me on my escape, but I’d chance anything right about now.
I looked down at the magical grimoire I had mindlessly been flicking my pencil onto. I kept returning to the castle library as often as I could get away from my royal duties. But no matter how hard I’d studied the rune hieroglyphs, I had found no spell that could remove the black magic in my father’s heart to awake him from the magical coma.
I startled as the blue magic sirens screamed at an ear-deafening volume, casting a blue magical sheen over the city. Another demon attack. Someone had penetrated the curtain wall that ran between the corner courts around the Arakzeon City. The demons stole nothing nor attacked civilians during their attacks, so why did they keep trying to enter the city? Were they looking for something?
Whatever it was they were doing, they had created the perfect opportunity for me to action my plan.
This is my cue to escape!
My healing magic warmed in my blood. There was so much power inside me that could help Tara on the battlefield. My best friend was a mighty fae warrior in the Wolfsbane Court. Even though prophecies foretold I was going to become the mightiest power mage in the world, which is why I should stay far away from the courts, all I wanted was to join them to have access to their library to find a spell that cured my father. I’d risk dying a warrior’s death, if that was the price I had to pay to wake him from the magical coma and have the chance at a life outside the castle walls.
But if anyone found out I was a power mage, I would involuntarily become the possession of one of the power mage guilds, as the courts’ laws forced them to serve the realm. They were the only mages who could weave and activate runes needed to cast powerful spells. Grand Master Valentio would lash Mother on the city stage for having concealed me from the courts if he found out about me. Mother had also kept my powers a secret because of the chastity oath the servants in the courts had to make, it would leave Arakzeon City without an heir on the throne.
I poked my head out of the library and into the reception area, where Birkim sat like a colossal bear on a small chair, supporting his elbow on a desk next to him as he was sharpening a dagger with a whetstone. There was a small green rug under his chair and all around the room portraits hung on the white walls, depicting people of my mother’s clan and her parents. Some were of my father, which my mother had sketched herself. She was talented, and each sketch was detailed and beautiful.
“Where’s Pivirio?”
Birkim looked up, his kind blue eyes looking at me as if I was his own daughter. He had his long blonde hair in braids and was still only comfortable wearing his tribal clothes which weren’t the common fashion within the city walls. The brown leather vest and trousers with the frill at the end of the legs made him look savage. So did the black stripes he painted vertically down his face, showing his sorrow at losing his sister eighteen years ago.
“He had to help at the wall.”
Good. My plan is working. The attack has distracted him.
I was ready for an escape tonight to enroll for the court in the morning. I had braided my hair and pinned it tightly to my head and I had hidden a backpack full of supplies and two of Birkim’s daggers on the windowsill in the library.
“Yet another demon attack this month.”
“Nothing to worry yourself with, Princess Jelena.”
“But I can heal. I can help!”
Birkim shook his head. “You know that your mother has ordered me not to let you leave the castle grounds.”
I gripped my nails around the door frame as I leaned on it. “So you’ll never ever allow me to see the world outside these walls?”
He frowned. “You know your mother is hurting at the loss of your father. She doesn’t want to lose you too. You’re the most important reminder she has of him; with the same relentless motivation when you get your mind set on something.” He leered at me. “I can see him in you by the shape of your face, your pointed ears and your black hair. The stubbornness and your blue eyes are your mother’s, though.”
“Father was probably only relentless because he had to deal with you!”
Birkim chuckled softly.
I wish I had known my father, and that someone would tell me more about him but I couldn’t open up to tell Birkimhow I hurt, knowing my father had been the one killing his sister on the city stage in the public spectacle my grandfather had started. It was wrong that Birkim was here protecting me because of his loyalty to my mother.
“You’ve got a sharpener?” I held my pencil up.
He beckoned with his hand for the pencil. I placed it in his huge palm, and with his dagger, he sharpened the tip before handing it back.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Princess.”
I walked back to the library desk. That should settle his need to check on me for a while; and I could prolong it even longer if he could hear my voice. I pulled a blank paper towards me and placed my palm flat onto it, closing my eyes. In my mind, I weaved a yellow thread in a circle, scripting the hieroglyphs inside the rune, activating the voice spell I needed.
I opened my eyes and removed my hand from the paper. My magic had printed the yellow spell rune onto the paper, displaying ancient letters inside rings that overlapped within triangle.
I tapped my finger on the rune, and my voice came out from it, singing a mage folk song my aunt Margery sang me to sleep with when I was upset. This would buy me a few minutes, maybe, unless Birkim was in the mood to join me in a singalong. But I doubted I’d ever hear him sing.
There was a large geranium on the windowsill that flowered in a rich pink colour, which I had used to block the sight to my backpack. I hung the backpack on my back and moved the plant pot to one side before I lifted a chair off the floor and put it by the wall under the window. With tall steps, I climbed up onto the seat and unlatched the lock on the frame, twisting the handle and swinging the window wide open. The draft knocked me back a little and I pushed myself forwards.
The coast was clear outside, so I tugged my navy-blue dress up and swung my legs out. The drop to the ground was ankle-breaking, so I weaved a blue rune, giving me a magical step in the air that held my weight and lowered me to the pavement.
A common voice spell didn’t require a rune and any experienced mage could cast them, but a weight-bearing essence was power mage magic, only cast from a rune. The runes were public information after my mother had handed over the Arakzeon Rune Grimoire to the authority of the City Hall eighteen years ago. That meant I had to be careful casting this potent magic on the account of who might see me.
I sprinted towards the big oak by the east wall, having scouted it to be a perfect escape tree to climb over the masonry wall that ran around the castle. I dropped to the street of the world outside, which I knew like the back of my hand from looking at maps and paintings but never having experienced it in real life.
The sound of the siren was louder from here, and I followed the noise to where the demons had breached our defences. It seemed to come from the North-East wall just a few blocks behind the castle. I sprinted towards it, and rounding the last corner of a tavern, I wrenched back in shock at what I saw.
Warriors were in full attack, fighting about a hundred demons who had forced through a human-sized hole in the curtain wall. My best friend was in the midst of it, fighting alongside her power mage, Eve of the Tomowathaa Clan. Eve was from the same clan as Birkim, who was her clan chief’s son, and it showed in their similar features of pale skin, long blonde hair and sky-blue eyes.
Tara saw me and immediately rushed to my side. Her grip over my arm was hard to the point my skin stang worse than being jabbed with magical voltage.
She glared at me with her teal coloured eyes. “You escaped the castle? Queen Megan will be furious if she finds out you’re here.”
Her head swung around and her long burgundy hair flopped to the other shoulder of her black Wolfsbane Court war uniform as she kept her eye on the fight.
“I’ll just have to make sure she won’t find out, then.”
Tara pointed at the sky. “Not likely. Pivirio is here.”
I looked up and saw the great white eagle circling above us.
“Tara! Watch out!”
A demon charged at us, his sprint followed by a dark shadow that faded at the edges around his body.
“Eve!” Tara shouted for her fire wielding power mage. “Fire her up!” Tara raised her blazing sword, infused with the magic that could cut through shadows. Both Eve’s and Tara’s runes glowed in blue on their wrists as the matching pair of warriors fought the demon together. From behind Tara’s back, I looked around to see what I could do to help without using magic. If I used any rune magic here, I could kiss my fae warrior career goodbye.
“Throw me a blade, Tara!”
Tara blocked the demon’s sword. “Master Cumham will kill me if I do.”
“Your master isn’t known for killing his fae warriors like Master Shawk of the Swan Gourd Court does.”
“At some point, there will be a first,” she growled, glowering at me.
I looked towards the breach in the wall where the demons were pouring into the city. My powers were strong enough to rebuild the fallen stone blocks, and seal the wall shut, if I got close enough without getting stabbed. I caught the sword Tara tossed me in volley and inspected the blade that was as black as the darkest shadows. It was the sword belonging to the demon Tara had just killed.
I jumped over a fallen fae warrior who was too far gone to heal, and darted towards the hole in the wall. The edges of the wall swirled with magic tendrils like the frayed threads on damaged clothing, as mages close by had been working as well as they could to put up shields to barricade the entrance.
A demon rushed through the opening when I thought I was out of reach of everyone. My boots skidded on the gravel, my heel catching in the lace of my skirt’s hem before I could stop and back away. The demon came after me. I took a double handed grip on the hilt and focused. Birkim and I had sparred countless hours.
I can do this.
The demon hammered down on my sword, and with brutal force, he pressed me back. I fell, landing on my back.
The demon twisted his sword around with a new grip to get the tip straight downwards and raised it to stab down at me. From behind me, a man stormed past, colliding with the demon and ran him through with his long-sword. The black-haired fae yanked back to free his blade, and the demon collapsed onto the ground.
The warrior looked like a stallion of a man, with muscles like wings running from his neck to his shoulder, his long mane falling from around his pointed ears to the small of his back. Despite the Catnip Court master emblem sewn to the collar of his black war uniform, I recognised Master Dylan. All the four masters came to the castle on special occasions to stand guard in the dining hall. But I believed there was no chance he could identify me, as the masters never paid attention to the people at the table. If he did, he would signal for Pivirio and my adventure would be over.
Master Dylan glowered at me with his deep green eyes. Seeing my pointed ears, he clearly thought a young fae woman in a dress and without a proper armour was a burden on the battlefield. Thankfully, he didn’t voice his thoughts before he carried on fighting.
A fuzzy feeling swarmed inside me, betraying my contempt for him. He was rumoured to be arrogant, but his adeptness on the battlefield far outdid anyone else’s. His appearance was something entirely undebatable. All women swooned at seeing him. His face was handsomely rugged with smooth skin and his full lips were to die for. Not to mention, he was tall and had muscles in places of his body I didn’t know existed.
Right now, I thanked the Arakzeon Rune Grimoire for having contained a spell that blocked out a fae’s emotion-reading. Almost all the people in the city had cast it over themselves, or had paid mages to cast it over them, to ensure their intentions and feelings remained private. Clearly Master Dylan had done the same, as I couldn’t read his either.
The demon at my feet gurgled blood and drew breaths as if it could save his life, but he was too injured to find strength to crawl back whence he came. I kneeled and gripped my demon sword, wanting to end his misery. He had attacked me so his life was forfeit. It triggered the curse Amseek, the right hand to Pivirio’s mother, placed on me as a babe. If anyone as much as attempted to harm me, Pivirio had explained that the curse would vanquish the person’s entire family lineage during their next sleep, or, in this case, death. I had never witnessed the curse myself and I had assumed it referred to those who genuinely wanted me dead and not the few I had a tiff with. If that was the case, half of the court would be dead within a fortnight if I joined.
The demon looked into my eyes, so I hesitated to stab him. The green globes looked so normal and not those of a knight who was here to drag me to the underworld.
He coughed up some blood. “Need to take a power mage,” he said, his voice hoarse and mixed with liquid.
“You bastard!” I shouted and heightened the sword.
He held a hand up. His eyes were so kind and too pleading to ignore. “Save our king. He’s dying. Only need help.”
“What?”
He attempted to say something else, but I couldn’t understand him. I looked around, and no one seemed to pay me any attention, so I put my hand over his wound. Light filled my fingertips as I pushed my healing powers into him. His erratic breathing steadied, and he kept looking at me calmly.
I got skittish when another demon stepped through the hole in the wall. This one was scarier with a wider build and his steps were calculating rather than wild with blind rage. He had short, dark hair and his tall form ended with a hefty gold crown on top of his head. Was this Malrome Fendoir, the demon prince himself?
He looked around and saw me healing his minion. I immediately stopped; his uncomfortable brown-eyed stares still observing me.
Tara appeared from behind me, grabbing her arms around my waist and dragged me backwards. All the while, the demon prince had his eyes locked on me. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
The demons ceased what they were doing instantly and looked towards him. Like shadows filling the space with a dark blur of mist, it was as if the Prince’s command sucked them back out through the hole to the world beyond. The demon prince cut through the mist like lightning. He swooped his arm for me, but I threw myself to the ground to escape him. Instead, he curled his arm around Tara’s waist. Within a blink of an eye, the mist and all demons were gone - and so was Tara.
Until next time,
Therese
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