The Flight - Reaconia Chapter 9

Needing a release from trivial social life in the castle, Princess Memora escapes to the woods for an adventure. She gets more than that, though, when she runs into some unfamiliar faces.

Nine: The Flight

 

            The end of the day was all Memora could think about; she stared out the window longingly and wanted nothing more than to be outside. Anywhere but here. Her mother, queen Romay, had invited some of the noble ladies of court to spend the day with her, thinking that she needed more girls her age to bond with; despite Memora's pleading that it was really not worth the effort.

            She scanned the faces of the girls seated in a circle around her. Some she had known her whole life, having seen them at court since she was a little girl; others came more recent, having come into royal favor. She watched them all working on their embroideries with much excitement, tittering away.

            Sisters Merlina and Narisca Elony sat next to her; they were both relatively quiet and the younger had a pig face, she drove Memora to crave a giant goblet of wine. Midori Leery sat next to them; the most artistic of the ladies, she was showing off the flawless yellow rose she had threaded into her cloth. Next to her were sisters Linnea and Rascheldas Ramses; their father had a dominion on Cay Island and is a great magnate of the king, Memora had never met them before, but they seemed friendly enough. Mareta and Deirdre Veyla were next; their mother was a good friend to the queen, so Memora had seen them quite often, though was never happy too. Deirdre was a little older than the rest and had a bit of a swollen belly, which was a clear indication that all the rumors about her were true; she was listening to Mareta complain about something. She complained about everything. Next to them was Dovee Rirschire; King Drom's cousin's daughter, which made them distant relatives. She was beautiful with long jet-black hair and pale skin like a doll, she always had copious amounts of make-up on, and one could obviously tell she took pride in her looks the way she flaunted about; but she was sick, and there was no hiding the red marks along her arms that she gave herself. Memora could handle her only when she could control her fits of insanity, which became less often every day. Romay had invited her all the way from the Suites. And finally, next to Memora was Fiora Greer, the only person in the room worth staying for. She was betrothed to Memora's brother Oliver before he died, and although that was almost ten years prior, she still remained part of the family; she was beautiful too, with soft brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Every day she wore the same exquisite white rose necklace around her neck, it was the sigil of her house and Oliver had given it to her as an engagement present; though it suited her perfectly, every time Memora saw it, she missed her brother more. Memora loved her, and looked to her as a sister; she was glad there was somebody in the room she could tolerate.

            “Is something the matter?” Fiora said to her silently, bringing out of her daze.

            “Hmm?” Memora sighed.

            “You're staring at nothing and you've barely touched your thread-work. Is something troubling you?”

            “Nothing,” Memora said back, she stole a subtle glance down to Fiora's necklace again. “I was just thinking about things; nothing in particular.”

            Fiora caught the glance. “I miss him too. I thank Trea every day that I at least have this small token to remember him by. Your brother was a great man, Memora.”

            “I know. I wish I remembered more about him, though, one of the only things I can truly recall is when he put a frog in the punch at mother's name day celebration.”

            “Good heavens, whatever for?” Fiora responded in a chuckle.

            “I wanted him too. I was mad at her. I wanted to go swimming in the garden ponds that day and she told me no. I dared him to do it, too! He got in so much trouble.” Memora laughed.

            “That is wonderful! I've never heard that story before! I'm not surprised, though, he would have done anything for you.”

            “He really was my best friend. I was only six years old when he died, though. I can’t believe it has been ten years already.”

            Fiora was about to respond when an interruption came from next to them. “Are you talking about your brother again? Maybe we should turn to a happier conversation.”

            Memora slightly turned her head, it was Dovee; she twirled a tress of hair between her fingers and had an impatient smirk on her face.

            “Must I always be happy?” Memora snapped back, “I’m not allowed to think of my brother?”

            “Moody, are we?” Dovee said, “I was simply suggesting different subject matter.”

            “Come now, Lady Dovee, that is no way to talk to Memora. It’s a great honor to remember our late Prince.” Midori said to her.

            “I don't find it an honor. Frankly, I find it depressing to think of dead family members like they're with us still, it gives a sense of longing for what cannot be changed. Though, while we are still on the subject of death, latterly I've been having these dreams where I will be doing everyday activities and then someone stifles me, and I fall dead.” Dovee said, expertly changing the conversation back to her as fast as it took for her mood to change.

            “Perhaps we should all stand back, in case a wayward bolt should strike from the sky.” Memora said coldly.

            There were a few chuckles and then the room was quiet for a spell, and all ten ladies stared at the unfinished embroideries in their laps. Memora stared at the window again.

            Please, something happen to get me out of here.

            “What do you think happens when we die, ladies?” Dovee asked.

            “Lady Dovee, your inquiries are lacking in gentleness.” Linnea piped in, getting murmurs of agreement from around the room.

            “What? I was only wondering your opinions.”

            “Then you can continue to wonder, and conceive your own opinion.” Fiora said, hushing Dovee for good. “I do not wish to continue any further with this conversation. Now, I will find Ida to bring us sweet bread and wine, is anybody hungry?”

            “Oh yes, I'm so out of it, I could puke.” Mareta complained.

            “None for Dierdre, though, those strings are looking a little tight.” Narisca said in a jest, her pig nose scrunching as she laughed, pointing to Dierdre's midsection.

            “You lie!” Dierdre said aghast, defensive enough to give credit to Narisca's comment.

            “Control yourselves, ladies, I will be return shortly.” Fiora said, gliding out of the door; at the last moment, she tossed Memora a look that said: 'everything will be alright.'

            There was an awkward tension in the room after she had left; Dovee sat with her arms and legs crossed, her mouth pursed in defiance. Dierdre straightened her bodice and rested her arms in front of her stomach while Mareta mouthed unknown words to her. Merlina and Narisca sat quiet, as did Linnea and Rascheldas, and Midori was working on the stem and leaves to her yellow rose. Memora watched them all in boredom; nobody said a word.

            It was Merlina who finally spoke, and again it was a conversation that Memora wanted to avoid: “Ah, there is something I need to tell you all, and I cannot keep it a secret anymore!” she said, and the rest of the girls sat up straight and began tittering about, anxious to hear some scandalous gossip.

            “Well, what is it?” Rascheldas asked.

            “I think I've fallen in love!” she said, and there was a resounding gasp that filled the room, “but it is forbidden! If my family found out, they would kill me!”

            “Who is it? Who?” Mareta asked.

            “Joby Dalyn.” Screams echoed off the walls and Memora winced at the sound. “You mustn't tell anyone, I've already sworn my sister not to say anything.” Merlina said.

            “The Equerry's son?” Dovee asked, followed by a disgusted grunt, “he's no more than a boy.”

            “Well, he's more than a boy if you get my meaning. We talked a few days ago when I arrived in the capitol, and then yesterday I saw him working at the guest livery wearing nothing more than his trousers and boots,” there was a squeal at that, “and I went to talk with him again, for no particular reason, and he had his lips on mine within five minutes!”

            Laughter reverberated throughout. This is why Memora hated these conversations, they were the same every time; it always started out with talking about boys, and things you could do with them, and then moved to marriage, and then to children and then to happy lives.

            To the people around her, the topic was a game, a mere plaything to experiment with. But to her, it was a political arrangement. She was the next heir to the realm, whomever she chose for a husband would need to be a benefit to the realm and meet the approval of her future people. It could not be a stable-boy that she fancied for a week.

            “What about you, ladies, any love interests?” Merlina asked, to which the room went still and the other girls shied away.

            “Well, there is one.” Linnea said coyly, and the room went right back to its rambunctious state, she took a deep breath, “Marron Adler.”

            “Oh, good choice, sister! That’s the Accomptant's son.” Rascheldas said, explaining to the group.

            “And he's studying to become a writer!” Linnea bragged, “I like him a lot!”

            “I know the Adlers!” Dierdre said, “their son is quite a good-looking young man!”

            Linnea scoffed. “To say he looks good is like saying the ground gets a bit damp after a downpour!” The girls laughed.

            Dovee turned to Memora with a sly grin on her face, “What about you, cousin, any potential kings in your sights?”

            Memora froze. All eyes were on her now.

            Do not say anything... just dismiss them with a shake of your head.

            Instead she mumbled. “I, uh...” She took in a deep breath, not knowing what to say.

 

            Fiora wandered the halls, headed for the kitchens. She strolled along leisurely, eying the tapestries that lined the extravagant walls. She was enjoying her moment away from the other girls, that last trifle with Dovee made her fume and she took this time to calm herself. She worried about Memora, though, and knew that she was having a hard time; they were very similar in many ways, lack of tolerance being one of them. Yet, a lot had changed since Oliver's death, and despite how tragic the situation was, Fiora could not help but feel cheated by what had happened. Ten years ago, she was a princess, and in line to be queen. And now she was a nobody... a friend of the family.

            She had been approached by the queen a couple years prior, asking Fiora if she would want to marry her cousin Phillip, the captain of the guards, but she hastily refused, not able to stand the man. Now, though, she was nearing thirty years of age, and remained husband-less and childless. Every time she thought of the match, she would convince herself that it is for the best and that she could be happy in it; but then one subconscious touch to her white rose necklace would put only Oliver in her head again. She needed to make that decision fast, though; she was unsure how long she could remain in the royal's good graces.

            Just that moment, Emmy came around the corner and jumped when she saw Fiora.

            “Oh, Lady Greer, I was not expecting you to be here.” Emmy said, clutching the space above her heart.

            “That is alright, Emmy.” Fiora laughed, “I do have a favor to ask of you, though, if you would.”

            “Of course, ma'am, what is it you can demand?”

            “I think princess Memora is having a hard time with the others, I was hoping you could make up an excuse to get her out of there.”

            “I already have an excuse, lady. As it would, her majesty has some news and asked me to bring Memora to her.”

            “Oh, perfect. Ta very much, Emmy, I will let you get to it. I am on my way to find Ida, the ladies are short on sweet bread.” Fiora said with a smile.

            The two did subtle curtsies to the other, going their separate ways.

 

            “Let's face it. If you put a group of children in a room with one puppy, there is going to be a lot of fighting.” Emmy heard someone say. She pushed open the door and a circle of faces turned to look at her; she recognized only a few of them and saw Memora give her a pleading look.

            “Did you bring the sweet bread?” a girl with a pig-face asked her.

            “No, I’m sorry ma'am, I apologize for interrupting your conversation. I came for the princess.” Emmy said.

            “Oh my, Memora, is this your hand-maiden? Why, she's dark as the ace of spades! You must be from the Suites, there are people like you all over there.” Dovee said, and the room quieted with a stunned silence.

            “I am, my lady. You must be Memora's cousin.” Emmy said, hearing many of the family's tales of the foul-mouthed girl, “Well, I would rather be dark than white as the trodden snow.”

            The room laughed, thankful that Emmy could handle the attack.

            “What is it you need, Emmy?” Memora asked her friend.

            “Your lady mother would have a word. She says it is of utmost importance.”

            “Then I will follow.” Memora said. It took all the effort she had not to bolt out of the room screaming a cry of relief; instead, she stood up and very slowly curtseyed, “Excuse me ladies, Sorry to leave you, I’ll be back in a moment.”

            They all nodded back to the princess and Memora squeezed herself out of the circle as giggles started again from behind her. Memora took Emmy’s hand after she went through the door.

            “Thank you for getting me out of there.” She said.

            “What were they talking about when I first arrived?” Emmy asked, “it was something about puppies and fighting.”

            “Oh. Men,” Memora laughed. “Boys really. It turns out Narisca, Midori and Rascheldas all like the same person, Kelen Hardel, some scholar’s grandson, and they were getting in a spat. Kelen is the puppy, and the girls are the children. It’s a bad metaphor, really.”

            “I think it’s wonderful!” Emmy exclaimed.

            “So what do you want to do this afternoon?” Memora asked. “Now that you saved me.”

            “I was speaking true when I said your mother needed you.”

            Memora huffed and rolled her eyes, “Did she tell you what she wanted?”

            “She shares very little with me.”

            “Well, I don’t want to see her right now. How do you feel about an adventure?” Memora looked at her friend with pleading eyes.

            “I really must go help Ida, the last of those youths from the trial left, and the guest corridor must be prepared for your friends.” Emmy let out a snide laugh.

            “Sounds wonderful.” A laugh escaped the princess’ lips too,” I’ll deal with my mother later. I need to see how Nirare is faring.”

            “I will just tell her that you were nowhere to be found, that you must have ran away from your friends.”

            “Only half true.”

            “I believe Philly is at the western doors, you can get out that way.”

            “I will see you later then, dear friend.” Memora said, she took both of Emmy’s hands and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you.”

            “I can’t handle those kind of adventures today, anyways.” Emmy said, turning down a corridor to the guest chambers, “I’ll meet up with you when you get back.”

            “I shan’t be too long, I want to stop and see Oliver too.”

            “Be careful you’re not seen on your way out.” Emmy chided, facing away from Memora, who rolled her eyes to the warning. Her best friend had always been too cautious.

            And then she was alone. She took a moment to gather her thoughts before she began her adventure, planning her route through and away from the castle. She walked as light as she could down the stone halls, trying to keep the heels of her shoes from announcing her presence. She peeked carefully through intersections, and hurried along as quickly as she could. Moments later, when she got to the western doors of the castle, her heart was beating rapidly and her face was flushed with warmth.

            She held her breath and looked around the corner, and let out a sigh of relief when she found that what Emmy told her was true. Phillip Hartley stood stoically in front of the giant wooden doors of the western entrance, a cheeky grin spread across his face at the sight of his distant cousin.

            “I was wondering when I would see you today,” he said, “I figured it couldn’t be too much longer, I know how much you love company.”

            “At least somebody understands.” She laughed, walking up to him. “How are you, Philly.”

            “Ecstatic.” He joked, stretching his back to relieve himself of the long day’s standing. “Going out again?”

            “I need to pay a visit to Nirare. Escape for a while.”

            “Here, I saved this for her,” And with that he reached a hand under the breastplate of his armor and removed a small velvet pouch. “It’s still a bit warm, I had the Master Magi put a spell on it.”

            Memora smiled when she took the bag from him, knowing full well what it contained. She felt a gentle heat radiate from the pouch and warm her hands, “Thank you, Cousin. I’m sure she will love it.” She smiled and tucked it into the waistband of her overskirt.

            “I’m glad to be rid of it, I was starting to sweat.” Philly said and the two shared a laugh, he gave her a curt nod and stepped aside, heaving open one of the great doors for Memora to slip through.

             The western grounds of the castle were Memora’s favorite. A wide path of flat slate stone lay before her, weaving down the hill before her. She always hopped from stone to stone, feeling their rough surfaces beneath her slippered feet, lifting her skirts as not to drag them through the rivers of tiny purple flowers that flowed between each grey island.

            It was turning out to be a wonderful afternoon. The sun had risen to the perfect height in the sky to where its rays cast beautiful shadows through the branches above her. She looked up and squinted when her eyes caught beams of light that made it past the shield of glowing aspen leaves that rustled in a soft breeze. A clearing ahead caught her attention and, out of habit, she looked through it, eyeing an extravagant stone monument that jutted out from the treetops. The main reason these grounds were her favorite.

            The slate path effortlessly merged into the stairs of the lavish mausoleum and she took them up two at a time. A lavish courtyard appeared before her, and she saw her exit going down on the other side. Her emotions were mixed, as they were every time she came here. If she wanted to avoid being seen, she needed to get to the castles outer wall just beyond the monument as quickly as she could; but it would tear at her heart to not visit her brother when she had the opportunity.

             She took a left through massive blackened copper doors up more stairs to a smaller square with walls to three sides, a fountain on each one, the melody of trickling water filling the air. The fourth side of the square faced due north and consisted of four pillars that rose thirty feet above her to form an arched dome. It was below this where her brother slept.

A golden tomb sat before her, slightly larger than a fathom in length and two paces high. The likeness of her brother laid on top, meticulously carved to the last detail of him as he were. He was portrayed to be wearing his suit of armor and held a sword in one hand, the one he carried on his first mission of the Pyron rebellion eight years before. His first and his last mission. The other hand held his crown, the one that marked him ‘the Sun Prince’, or so the people called him. A brilliant coronal that looked much better atop his head of dirty blond hair, just like their fathers. Eight years without you, Oliver. How has it been eight years already?

His face, once she willed herself to look, was unarmored and just as she remembered. She’s stared at her immortalized brother countless times, and though it was striking replica, Memora still noticed the details that the engraver had gotten wrong. His brow was not as angled as it could have been and she wished there was more of a smile to his still lips; the sort of smile her eight-year-old self remembered of him. She walked to him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, always hoping that it would be warm, pale flesh under her lips, but instead the cold metal caused her to pull away.

Without looking at the epitaph inscribed on the monument below him, she said every word in her head as she turned from him and went down the stairs to the castles outer wall. 

           

“His was a life in bloom, much as a rose in blossom. As each petal unfurls, we glimpse the majesty of growth and marvel at the change. We sense a promise of un-boundless wisdom and strength, enlisting thoughts of the supernal bliss of youth. A prescient reminder of life’s promise, and our desire to be fulfilled. Verily, what springs forth into life to dance with the wind and bask in the light of the sun must also be washed away with the rains of time. Gone but never forgotten, for his memory is stamped in our hearts and forged into our spirits. We honor the beauty of his life in our remembrance and we are forever thankful for the joy and love we shared. Yet, we are ever mindful of the magnanimous aspect of a soul rejoined with their creator, and we take great comfort that his is a soul in final peace.

The Crowned Sun, Prince of his people, Sir Oliver Caledon Sease

Year fifteen S.B., Mihr the seventeenth.”

 

The time it took her to recite those words was enough for her to clear the distance between the mausoleum and the outer wall. The shade felt cool as she walked under a grove of trees, the perfect shield from prying eyes, and up to spot in stone barrier where nature had overcome it. A tangle of vines provided the perfect ladder for her to climb and she tucked up her dress and placed a foot in the fork of the mossy root. She knew exactly where to step next, having made the assent countless times, and climbed the near five-fathom barricade in the span of a minute.

She sat on top of the wall, feeling the cold radiate through the cloth of her dress. Normally, she would be laughing at Emmy, who usually had a tougher time with the climb, but since she was alone, the thoughts of her brother would not escape her mind. He was the one who found this place. Memora was five years old and Oliver was sixteen, he had taken her to the beach for a day of swimming, without telling their parents, and they were out past curfew. The gates had locked and they spent what seemed like forever looking for a way back into the castle. She had to hang around his neck as he climbed up the wall then, clutching tighter the higher they went. But now, the wall appeared smaller every time she saw it, and it was hard to imagine that she could have ever been scared of it. She credited it simply to the fact that she was taller now. Maybe I’ve gotten stronger, too…

She flung her legs over the edge, and in no time at all, was to the bottom of the other side of the wall, having swung the last five feet to the ground from a branch, landing in a soft carpet of moss and leaves. Immediately, she sank to the ground at the base of the tree and took a peek at her surroundings.

Oliver’s words rang in her ears. “You must be careful, Memora, not to let anyone see you climbing here, for then, outsiders would know how and where to get into the castle without being seen, and that is a very bad thing.” He had explained it to her in a way that a five-year-old could understand, and she must have taken those words to heart because, once again, she found herself crouched down in the mucky foliage listening to them still.

The forest, though, was always quiet here, being far enough from the ocean and town behind her and from the road that went north from the capitol. Anyone wandering through the trees here would either be lost or trying to get there.

When the coast was clear, she stood excitedly and started to bound through the trees, lifting her skirts and holding them close as to not snag it on an outstretched branch. She smiled as she noticed that her previous trips through these trees had left a sort of path through the tall grass and she followed exactly where the shoots were slightly flattened and some of the leaves were brushed aside. She felt guilty for not being through here recently though, it having been over a week since the last time, and she was more than excited for another adventure.

She relished in the freedom of her journey; a gentle breeze made her golden locks fly behind her, the sapphire jewels at her neck bounced, and her skirts swished around her with every stride. Tree limbs and boulders could not stop her and she ducked and climbed over each one, continuing like that for quite some time; then she came to the bottom of a large hill and slowed herself to a stop. She pulled a white handkerchief from the top of her bodice and swiped the beads of sweat from her brow, and felt a droplet from her neck release and flow down the crevice of her spine.

Emmy had done too good of a job with the strings of her corset, and Memora had to pause a moment to allow her breath to catch up, her lungs only taking in little at a time in their constraints.

The hill before her was always an imposing sight, being the spot where forest and mountains started to merge together, where great masses of rock covered the steep hillside and the trees became sparser. Once she had composed herself, she slipped off her delicate heeled shoes, and began the climb, knowing that the thin soles would do no good on the stones’ slick surfaces.

And so she went, jumping from boulder to higher boulder, having to crawl at points when the hill got too steep. The wind got stronger as she ascended and pulled at her clothes and made her hair swirl about her face; she turned, tucking a wayward strand behind her ear. From this vantage, she could see the capitol jutting from the treetops some miles behind her, each tier of the castle small enough that she could pinch.

She always wondered if there was anyone there, in the city, staring out at the forest around them, and thinking if anyone was looking back. She knew that the ladies she left would be inquiring about where she went. Most of them, perhaps. They would likely still be fighting over some stable boy or scholar’s grandson, and Marete would be complaining. She took a deep breath of fresh air and gave thanks that she was not there anymore. Poor Fiora…

In a matter of moments, she was over the crest of the hill and the city disappeared behind her; a drastic slope downward now fell before her into a valley of rock that was bare of trees. Oliver had told her that he believed an old quarry used to be here, but has long since been abandoned, and Memora could see evidence of that, seeing places in the stone that were cut away. She was thankful for this place and the people who left it, and the tunnels, mines and caves that they carved here; caves that were perfect for hiding things, things she did not want anybody else to find.

The rocks here became more sharp and jagged, and she had to put her slippers on to continue; the first step down, though, her foot slipped on a boulder and made her heart jump, sending an avalanche of pebbles cascading away from her. She sat a moment and listened, looking around, seeing if anything reacted to the noise. Careful now, Memora. She eased herself down the cliffs slowly, trying her best not to further disturb the ground around her.

Almost to the bottom, she came to a cliff and stood at the top of a cave opening; the entrance to the largest mine in the quarry. The stones going down around the quarry’s great yawning mouth reminded Memora of the grand staircase in the throne room, curving around its black marble stage. Natural steps in the stone descended with an arc, and she started down to the right. The quarry walls that now towered around her made the clicks of her heels echo louder than she cared for and she kept a wary look on her surroundings. Her efforts to be quiet, though, were all in vain as she let out a scream when her foot slipped again and she slid the rest of the way to the bottom.

The ground began to rumble before she even opened her eyes. The pebbles and rocks around her rattling together as the earth shook, making dust cloud the air and small stone avalanches flow off of the quarry’s hills and cliffs. She bolted to her feet and down into the entrance of the large cave.

“Nirare!” she called soothingly, and for a moment, the earth’s shudders stopped, and a low growl resonated from within, a growl from the very thing she needed to be wary of. Anybody sneaking around here without knowing what to expect would surely be in for a surprise. She kept a rope hidden among the rocks near the entrance, and she bent to get it, her eyes having to adjust to the dark as she stepped farther into the cave, feeling her way amongst the dewy boulders around her, hauling the length of rope coiled on her shoulder.

More roars emanated from the bowels of darkness ahead, welcoming the princess to its home.

“I have something for you,” Memora said, and at that, she saw a great shadow loom high above and heard the groaning of the earth and the clashing of boulders as something large moved before her. “It’s from our cousin Philly and the Master Magi.” her voice filled the cavernous space. She reached under her waistband and grasped the still-warm velvet pouch, she undid the drawstring and dumped out a hard piece of ashy charcoal into her other palm. The ember illuminated the space around her with a purple aura, having been put under a spell. She was thankful for at least a small light and held it in front of her to light her path.

“Where are you, Nirare?” she laughed. She stumbled forward and, in her light, saw a large, scaled foot in front of her. She reached out and patted it, feeling the rigid plates of skin with her fingers, disks of armor bigger than her hand that gave off a heat that could only come from inside. “Ah, there you are.”

 A snort blasted from behind her, sending her hair and skirts flying around her, and she turned around in a fright.                         “How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?” she said, catching her breath, and a low growl responded from the gigantic snout in front of her. She held out the piece of charcoal before her, and after a couple gusty snuffs from the creature, the mouth opened slightly, revealing teeth that were as tall as the twisting wooden posts of her bed       and a wide, pink tongue that snaked its way through them. She felt the wet muscle coil its way around her arm and she cringed at the feeling, that, and the stench of the beasts breath. When the tongue retracted, the ember of charcoal was gone, along with the purple light it gave.

Memora did not know why the creature liked them, as it was only enchanted ash, but during an adventure years ago, they were almost discovered when it began to eat out of the ensorcelled fire pits in the ravine just outside the castle walls. So now she brought a piece for it any chance she had, and was glad Philly had thought of it. Another rumbling growl from the content creature filled the space and she felt the earth shake again as a clawed foot crashed down behind her.

            “Are you ready to stretch your wings?” Memora asked to the darkness above her, knowing the animals face was up there somewhere.

Instead of feeling her way through the dark back to the entrance, she climbed up into the crook of the creatures plated extremity, and in a surge of upward motion, they began to move.

It was a much shorter trip to the entrance of the cave with the animal’s large stride, and she soon had to squint as the sun came back into view. It never ceased to amaze her, once she could clearly see the outline of the beast, how amazing it truly was; how monstrous and mystifying and beautiful and awe-inspiring. She felt immensely privileged that Oliver was the ones to find it years ago, just an egg in the forest, a shimmering golden stone laying amongst the foliage.

            The dragon’s immense spiked skull, towering far ahead of her, slithered out of the cavern first; Memora could see the sun glinting off of every scale, each of which beautifully faded from a lustrous blue-grey hue to a striking gold. Several massive horns jutted back from the creature’s head, from above its eyes to the length of its jaw and along the spine of its thick, serpentine neck, which Memora figured was almost ten fathoms in length.

             She heard flocks of birds flee from the trees around her before she was even out of the cave, their chirps and cries putting Nirare into an excited fit, and the dragon frantically looked about the sky at the thousands of black-feathered, scared animals. Memora simply patted her hand on the creature’s foot under her, and the gigantic head swung around to face her, opening its cavernous mouth in a growl. She smiled, wondering how the massive creature even felt such a small gesture. The princess caressed Nirare’s snout, trying to keep her balance as two scaly nostrils on either side of her, big enough for her to stand in, sent out breaths of air strong enough to knock her over.

            “Stop that! Look away!” She laughed.

            With that, the dragon thundered the rest of the way out into the quarry, its enormous torso almost the size of the castle’s throne room followed by a tail as long as its neck that tapered to a pointed tip. The massive beast stomped its foot down once it was fully out of its home, sending up a cloud of dust that made Memora cough. She slid down one of its claws onto earth that trembled to hold the dragon’s weight, shifting and grinding in an effort to maintain its composure.

            “Shall we go now, Nirare?” Memora yelled, running to where she stood facing the creature, having to strain her neck to look up at it. Nirare looked down at her and for a spell the two made eye contact, making Memora gasp. It was moments like this that really made her feel lucky and beholden to know such a wonderful animal. She gazed into the dragon’s large, reptilian, golden eyes and felt a connection like no other; a true bond. Memories flooded into her mind from when she was a child and held Nirare for the first time just after it hatched. Oliver handed the tiny scaled lizard to her and it wriggled so much in her arms, no bigger than a house cat, with claws and tiny scales the size of her fingernail. She was amazed by the creature then and still stood awestruck now, nine years later, at the elegant, powerful, colossal being that looked back at her.

            Memora broke her gaze when she noticed that the sky had transformed into a color that matched the dragon’s eyes, the setting sun painting the clouds a brilliant amber hue.

            “I don’t have much time,” Memora said, smiling. “Are you ready?”

            She heard a rumbling bay come from above her as the dragon brought its head down next to her, laying on the ground, its cream-colored underbelly scales shifting the gravel around it.

            A few steps cleared the distance between her and the dragon’s massive skull; she could reach only as high as the creature’s bottom lip and she ran her hand along it as she walked amidst the low rumbling bays the creature emanated.

            The claws in front of her on the long muscled extremity of the beast cut into the dirt as Nirare flexed its toes. This was the easiest place for Memora to climb up to ride. She adjusted the rope on her shoulders and jumped onto the living platform, feeling the tendons wriggle beneath her. Walking on the scaled floor was an odd sensation, it felt much like the cobblestone courtyard before the throne room, except warmer; and the sound was different, the tap of her shoes sounded as if there were diamonds below her heels.

            Using these scales like a ladder, she hooked her hands underneath them and pulled herself up the dragon’s front leg. It was at this point that she started to feel the effects of her journey, her arms were burning by the time she got to the crease of the beast’s elbow, and she had to force her body to climb the rest of the way. A feeling of great relief always hit her once she could walk again after she scrambled past the blade of Nirare’s shoulder. After climbing the perimeter wall at the castle, and then the hills to the quarry and now a dragon, she knew she would sleep well tonight, especially after the return trip.

            Down the neck of the creature grew great spines that stood twice her height, protruding between the scales as a tree would do to soil, extending right from each vertebrae. There were at least twenty that dotted the serpentine form and Memora used them to support herself as she moved along to the top of the dragon’s head.

            Once there, she found her spot at the crown of Nirare’s skull, between the two brows, and readied herself. Uncoiling her rope, she wrapped it around her waist and then around a great pillar of bone behind her.

            It was customary for Memora at this time to take a moment and prepare herself for the events that were about to unfold. She inhaled deeply, trying in vain to calm down her rapid heartbeat; instead it slammed against its cage like it wanted to burst through her chest. A big swallow forced its way down her throat and she reached out a shaky hand, patting a glistening scale as she said: “Let’s go.”

            In a split second and a surge of motion, Nirare stood and raised her head off the ground and Memora found herself a hundred feet in the air. Her trembling voice let out a cry and she had to use her arms to support herself as she caught her breathe. She did not know why she always grew scared at this part of her journey, she had done this hundreds of times before, but each time she found herself shaking like a leaf in the wind. It must be how a soldier feels lining up on the battle field, she thought to herself once. Even after countless victories, one can never know the outcome of the next fight.

            The chariot below her rumbled and Memora heard the clicking of scales as massive leathery wings unfolded behind her, stretching near twenty fathoms on each side, almost completely spanning the entire quarry. At this, the flurry of blackbirds again took to the sky, seeing that their hunter was once again a threat.

            A cloud of dust filled the sky as Nirare brought its great wings down, and Memora felt her mount rise a bit, crashing back to the ground. Another gust of wind and they rose higher, only to crash down again. Nirare then crouched low, like a cat on the hunt, and bounded forward in a jerk, with great thundering leaps that cleared the quarry and its jagged cliff walls in a flash.

            Memora gasped as the trees and hills fell below her and the ocean in all of its splendor came into view. The sunset, whose golden rays were fading to a pink blush, washed over everything in sight, making the waters shimmer and the clouds glow.

            For a moment, time seemed to stand still and they floated, being carried along by the ocean winds without a single wing-beat. Memora released her white knuckles from the scaly ground under her and relaxed her arms out to her sides, letting every nervous feeling she had fly after them. She closed her eyes and relished in the harmony; a shake of her head made her hair fly in the breeze, and her skirts rustled behind her, threatening to pull her off her mount at times.

With her arms outstretched and the wind flowing around her, it almost felt like she herself was flying! The setting sun lightly kissed her skin and gave the wind a gentle warmth. It was the greatest feeling.

            Suddenly, Nirare vaulted higher with a pronounced flap of its wings and the air around her surged; Memora fell forward and had to clutch two scales to keep from flying back. Lunge after lunge they flew higher. It made Memora sick to look down, but nevertheless, she did, and saw the ocean a league or more below her. Though the sight made her hold tighter to her dragon, but she could not help but laugh. There were very few people who had ever experienced what she was now, let alone a royal.

            She snugged closer to Nirare, feeling the warmth emanating from under the creatures skin as the air around her got thinner and colder. They were almost to the clouds; she looked up just in time for a light mist to wash over her face.

            They disappeared into the puff, and Memora could see nothing around them but fog, glowing pink from the weakening sunlight. A coating of water clung to her and she was drenched by the time they rose above the clouds. Steam rose off of her dragon as its internal heat evaporated the droplets that latched onto its scales; Memora wished she could do that as well as she wiped the dew off of her arms and face. The two hovered there and reveled in the beauty of the vast marvel before them. It was an ocean of clouds, darker on the top where the sunlight could not reach them, and the stars were starting to show themselves, dotting the skies all around them.

            It was here that she felt closest to her brother, she was in his home now, amongst the heavens. She would always close her eyes and imagine that he was there, walking amid the clouds, just as he was eight years ago, exactly how she remembered him. But then she would open her eyes and nothing would be there; nothing but clouds and sky. Looking to the stars again, she remembered the tale of Sabathiel, and the light that is seen before a person passes on, guiding the soul to the heavens, and those souls becoming the stars. I just have farther to climb. They looked close enough that she could reach out and grab them, and she tried, closing her hand on air, making her heart sink. If the tales were true, though, her brother would not be here anyway, but somewhere above the shores of Pyron, where he lost his life. Did he ever see his light? If so, why did he continue with his mission?

            That question had bothered her ever since she had learned of the legend. Even so, carrying on despite the knowledge of his fate was the most courageous thing he could have done. It was every bit as brave, stubborn, and dignifying as she remembered of him. “Representative of the young Prince’s life,” people had always told her.

            Nirare let out a rumbling growl that pulled Memora from her thoughts, “I know,” she patted the top of the dragon’s head. “Let’s go just a little farther before we return.” She tossed her wet hair behind her, said a quick ‘good-bye’ to her brother, and clasped her scaly hand grips before signaling her mount to continue on.

           

            The night was in the early stages of dusk by the time they flew over land again and back into the quarry, and everything was washed in a mellow grey tint. Nirare pivoted its wings and they rose above its stone home, crashing down to the ground on its hind legs before arching forward, completing its touchdown and falling into a crouched position. The dragon lowered its head slowly until it nestled its jawbone in the loose gravel.

            Memora untied the rope from her waist and coiled it up, holding it around her shoulder while she started to slide down the Nirare’s brow on her backside. The dragon’s skull and plates warmed with every breath the creature drew and rumbled with every growl, which grew increasingly more often the longer it took her to get down.

            “I know, I know, I am almost there!” she declared, scooting between the dragon’s nostrils, the point where her path curved drastically downward; the ground still nearly two fathoms beneath her. Memora grasped a small horn that jutted from the scales next to her and gave the dragon a pat on the nose. “A little help here, please.”

            Suddenly her world went vertical as Nirare arched its neck and pointed its snout to the earth. Memora gave a laugh as she dangled there, her legs swinging with the movement, her skirts swelling with the breeze. Then, she was lowered slowly, as carefully as a mother laying down her baby for its nap, until her slippers touched the ground.

            She let go and Nirare let out another rumbling growl, this one long and somber, as if it was pleading for Memora not to leave. The princess stared up at the dragon’s face just above her, looking into each of its golden eyes.

            “It’s nearly dark, I have to get to the castle, But I will be back soon, Nirare,” Memora soothed, “and I promise it will be sooner than the last time.” She stood on her tip-toes and kissed a blue-gold scale on Nirare’s nose and felt the dragon exhale a sigh of satisfaction, kicking up dust around them.

            “Stay safe, my pet,” Memora whispered, turning to the hills. Knowing she had to get back soon, she started running. The castle gates would surely be closed by this hour and, remembering the important news her mother had for her, her family would undoubtedly be wondering where she was. Not to mention my wonderful friends.

            Memora climbed almost halfway up the quarry’s southern cliff before she felt the ground rumble again when Nirare finally went back into its cave. She looked behind her in time to see the dragon’s tail disappear from sight. If she could have stayed out here all night, she would have. There was always a pain in her heart every time she left Nirare and the quarry behind; a guilt for having to keep the creature hidden and a longing to fly away and leave everything behind.

            Recently, Memora thought endlessly about telling her parents of Nirare, even more so since the latest Pyron attack on the capitol barely a fortnight before. Perhaps the creature could be of help… having a dragon, though, was against the law and it would bring shame on her and her family if the creature was discovered.

            She decided to bring the idea up to Emmy, and to Philly. There was a good chance that the two of them would convince her of what to do.

            Lost in her thoughts, she bounded through the trees, each crunch of leaves signaling a step closer to her home. Her eyes were pointed to the ground and she watched her petite shoes squash the yellowing foliage, being careful of where she stepped. The rhythm of her feet quickened when she noticed how dark the sky had become.

            I cannot believe I let it get this late. Mother is going to be furio---

            “Good eve, miss.”

            Memora nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the voice, looking immediately in the direction it came. A brown-haired man who sat on a boulder looked back at her. He was accompanied by a blond man who looked about the same age, and a girl who sat across from them; she had a longsword in her hand that was tinted the color of blood. Memora backed away from them when they stood.

            “Who are you?” She demanded of the strangers.

            “Travelers is all. We did not mean to cause a fright…” the blond man said to her. He stared at her in a way that she had never seen before, and the look in his eyes was enough to make any woman blush.

            “There is no road around here for miles.” Memora muttered, a nervousness washed over and she backed away more.

            “Then what are you doing out here?” The girl asked. “You look quite lavish to be wandering through the woods.”

            “That’s no concern of yours. Now I really must be going.” She spat, she grabbed her skirts a little farther down when she turned, in case she needed to run.

            “Are you the… princess?” the blond man asked again; he looked enthralled by her.

            She halted again, and without knowing what to say, Memora repeated herself, “Really, I must get back…”

            The taller man stepped towards her, “You are, aren’t you?”

            “Now all of you stay back... Do not come any closer.” Memora began to shake.

            “No, we just need to ‘ave a word with you is all,” the brown-haired man said again, his arms open.

            Memora darted away before the stranger took another step, not even taking a moment to look behind her to see if the man gave chase. This was the first time she had ever seen other people in the woods here, and she was caught off-guard. The woods flew by her in a flash and her heart beat in her chest louder than it ever has before.

            “Please, my lady!” the man’s voice called after her.

            Memora bent down and grabbed a handful of pebbles from the ground and launched them behind her, “Leave me alone!” she screamed, continuing on.

            “Let her be, Roanan,” she heard another voice say, and she knew there was nobody behind her; still, she ran as fast as she could, her nerves fueling her body.

How could I be so careless, so naïve to ever come out here on my own?

The woods were a blur, due to her focus and the tears welling in her eyes and the next thing she knew, the outer wall to the castle appeared before her and she scaled it with the greatest of ease, despite how exhausted she was. She flung herself over the top, and, losing her footing, she slipped and fell to the ground on the other side.

Rolling onto her back, her legs tangled in her skirts, she stared up at the sky with her arms outstretched in the grass; her chest heaved, straining at the bounds of her corset as she struggled to catch her breath.

An hour before, coming back home was the last thing she wanted to do, but now, being inside the castle walls, safe and unharmed felt like the greatest blessing. The stars poking through the dark blanket of night told her to get up again and she stood on shaking legs. She knew she looked a fright, and adjusted her jewels, doing her best to smooth her hair and wipe the black liner that had streamed onto her cheeks; she realized that the heel to one of her shoes had broken and she took them off, hobbling back to the castle through the gardens, wanting nothing more than to cuddle with Emmy and tell her everything that happened tonight. And then she remembered what Emmy had told her before: “Your lady mother would have a word. She says it is of utmost importance.”

Memora sighed, knowing it would be a while longer before she made it to her bed. 

Author's Note

Hope you like this one! It took me a while to finish but it feels good to finally post it!