James Gade
08-30-2013, 08:34 PM
Prelude,
Part I
The world of Triarch is at horrendous war, only the magicians trained in the legendary Towinia can save it, follow young Brandesh as he chronicles his way through the amazing world of Triarch, and beyond.
Brandesh picked up his spear, it was thick with sweat and other juices he had staining his finely trimmed nails. The need for more combat was quite strong, for he felt his spirit beginning to tire. Guy waited beside quietly, seeing that all the true combat had ended.
Glory seemed an easy enough thing to achieve, but was mysterious in its actual value. Shredded victims of a dark army of yielded gold and treasure, but sometimes the jade chest of victory lent nothing but empty space. Brandesh’s father, the King, had yielded such wisdom, but was just as often found to be silent.
The path of a soldier was a hard one, rigorous daily exercises and sparring had young Brandesh a fine, fine soldier. Occasional sessions of heavy eating still left him with a tough frame.
The spear was a simple silver combat spear. Good value, but its use was simple, blocking and deflecting swords.
His blue kingdom tabard was smeared with red blood. But fashion truly mattered little to young Brandesh. Nightmares had plagued his few moments of sleep since the combat ended seven weeks ago.
The dynasties of Triarch were as political as they were variegated. Brandesh’s family sported the green eagle signet, and his green ring drew many unwanted combatants to him, pulsing as his red blood pumped through him. His father was King of the West and his mother his faithful Queen. He was only 23 years old and he was excited to graduate from soldiering to leadership, where his father excelled. In Triarch there were three houses, the West, North and South. The South was called Stillguard, and wore white cloaks and its women kept their hair covered, due to the hundred degree heat. Brandesh had just fought to defend the castle at Farcoast, a hotly contested coast.
There was also a so called Eastern continent, separate from the other content by an ocean called Ice Ocean, fostering some blackhats, named for the fashion many youths of the East sported, covering their foreheads.
The South and West were at war endlessly, Stillguard was led by many tribal warleaders, head of which was the great King Shagdar, and the resplendent Queen Tri-na, both fierce and unyielding.
“I think that’s the end of it,” Guy said.
“Where is the enemy?”
Brandesh had replaced the silver spear with the more dexterous dagger. Seeing the battle was over, he at last put down his dagger.
“That was some fight, I could use an ale!” Guy said.
“Me too,” Brandesh said quietly.
Being in the stage-lights was a pain in Brandesh’s young heart, especially having to see Princess Sarah, as his battle-blood didn’t mix well with Court intrigue.
Suddenly a flame-wolf leapt out of the corner, and Brandesh grabbed it whole, burning his hands. They rolled until Brandesh gained the upper-hand and did the beast in. The magical wolves were small, but hard to master as pets.
Guy helped his friend up. “maybe to or three ales for you, you look tired as a dog.”
Though tired and pained, all he could thing about was Sarah.
Sarah danced happily with Patriciae on a veranda bathed in starlight, their lithe bodies moving in a beautiful fashion, they had flowers in their hair and their minds danced over women’s concerns. The Veranda was covered with thick green vines covered in purple-bitter berries.
“Come here you two or I’ll let you dance in the dungeons!”
The girls rushed to grab their wands, such devices were truly unneeded in higher magic, which the girls studied, but remained in use for training.
Master Winthrope sauntered in, tall and heavy of shoulder, with a long white beard.
“I know you girls are past flame-wolves, but I think Patriciae could use the true God’s guidance on water-beasts, seeing the young students didget he let out a merry laugh.
Princess Sarah was part of the white path and Patriciae the black, both worshipped the true God, but Patriciae was new to the various spells and counter-spells.
The making of spells was created centuries earlier, since Leviticare summoned the first dire-wolf and kept two pups as pets, causing farmer muffins much distress. But beyond him, it was discovered women were more attuned to magic. It involved intense concentration and one slip or shake couldn’t alter the careful summoning of energies.
Sarah was a skilled caller, she has silky, voluptuous hair and held herself with beautiful grace and poise. Patriciae was newer to magic, but something else entirely in life. The two girls were very sweet to each-other.
The ladies worked on their flame-wolves and nodding his head in approval, Master Winthrope said, “Good, now put down your wands.”
“Now I want you at summons, Farcoast is saved, and the King’s retinue will be returning to Sealcrest.
Patriciae played with the little water-pup she had summoned, perhaps the only one who knew what was on Princess Sarah’s mind. Meanwhile purple-bitter berries dripped off the vine.
The tribal war-horn announced the King’s war-council. Brandesh was a south fighter, but was tired from the long journey. Guy held a grin at seeing the spires of Sealcrest, rising high into the sky.
Master Winthrope conjured a magical harp and began to play a dance tune. Meanwhile young Angel and Liu had joined in the girl’s play, while Master Winthrope clapped in time with the dancing. Angel was a girl of 12, and Liu likewise, Angel was a white and sported blonde hair, Liu had black hair and was a skilled seamstress of water-magic, as such language was used by girl-magicians. Liu had a boyfriend named Gregory, who became ashen at any court intrigue, but was a good boy. Sarah welled up with tears, as these girls were like family.
Um, hello, I just wanted to say hi,” Brandesh said, after he suddenly appeared in proper regalia.
“Hi, how are you,” said Sarah.
“Well, Brandesh thoughtfully replied. The other girls giggled, Brandesh wished he didn’t feel so nervous, he’d be more comfortable doing push-ups. He was quite enamored with Sarah, they were not of relation, but had studied together in church for years.
“Here, try to control this dire wolf,” Sarah said.
Brandesh controlled the pup somewhat easily and somewhat intensely, for it was as tender a thing as holding a baby, a misstep could destroy the ‘house of magic’ as the girls called their calls. But Brandesh was skilled in the art somewhat after training with some blackhat youth on a visit to the East.
Sarah’s face was beautiful mask of calm, she was merely 19, studying at the academy of Sealcrest, she was like a river, but her thoughts disparaged this idiot of a caster. He wasn’t holding the pup right at all! In fairness he was doing fine, but he was too much of a soldier right now.
Sarah said nothing, and Brandesh knew nothing of her thoughts. Princess Sarah came from a different section of the West Little Triarch, and the city of Sematnthia, with some of the toughest soldier in Triarch, Sarah had been hurt by a one, hurt badly, and locked herself away with dancing and magic.
“What is this flambosery? Get down to dinner Brandesh, you have work in the stables tomorrow!” Qeeun Semanthia announced. She was a sweet Queen, and had mothered Brandesh well.
“See ya,” said Brandesh, followed by the same from princess Sarah.
As they walked away Patriciae hummed a familiar tune.
Of all the fallen angels and seraphim,
The raven-Queen calls all to her,
In her warm breast, culled within,
To want or need no more.
It was a young night, and Patriciae knew more mischief was in store.
Three little water pups followed her. Even a little water cat adorned her room. When she was with Brandesh, she felt like she could fall into his strong arms, but she was only a girl of fifteen, she didn’t care for boys, or dogs as she often found them. Her bathroom had a black brush, toothbrush and large white block of soap. When the moon appeared her first thought was on readying a bath, and she called a servant to help her prepare one. The water pups would lick her feet and she’d giggle at the attention. As she washed with the soap she thought, “Maybe I’m in love with Brandesh.” Then she laughed, “But I’ll never be a Queen.”
She called the water pups and cat into the bath after dressing, resolving their energies.
Her heart wasn’t only concerned with matters of love, the war with South Triarch had given her nightmares, as they had siege weapons cached in Highpoint, south of Farcoast. She had had nightmares about those siege engines killing her family here at Sealcrest. She had absolute faith that Brandesh could stop them if the King faltered. She had a friend from the South, named Accasia, she was from the South, but she was indeed good, loyal and true and had Patriciae had no idea why their nations warred, perhaps gold, she mused.
She put on an herbal masque of green herbs and white cream, and slowly stepped into bed.
Brandesh breathed out as he lifted the last bundle of hay. He was a magician with the sword, but not much with real magic, perhaps, no he should as God for guidance on things magical. He then walked to his master’s offices.
A conjuration of white ghosts flew over and lent illumination to the gold and silver arches that lined the room in a square pattern.
“How are you boy? War comes, from the South yes, but from the North too, even the eastern nations prepare for war. Have no doubt boy, war is coming, best if you can carry on when the honorable King leaves us, God bless his soul, best you learn some magic… I know you worry for your hands, but you have work to do, heal this cursed Triarch and make it pure again. Perhaps forget bedding my girls and learn!”
“The thought never crossed my mind, sir.” Brandesh said. Such advice seared young Brandesh’s heart, but he knew if he was to defend the kingdom he would have to learn magic, even if it was a womanly skill.
“Sarah? Err, Princess Sarah?” He said.
“Yes boy, go seek her out.” Winthrope said.
Brandesh left, he was no stranger to tough love, his father had even thrown him in the dungeon several times for acting unruly.
Brandesh’s mind was a mess. He heard, or imagined too much, or was too uncontrolled, he was a good boy, but it didn’t always show. He prayed to walk in the light every night.
He half-stumbled up to the magician’s corner as it was called. All the girls were waiting there sewing magic together. The only one missing was Sarah, who arrived and her things down. There was some sort of disconnect between Brandesh and Sarah, perhaps because Brandesh was a complete novice at magic.
Brandesh sat down cross-legged and tried to work magic, but his mind was blocked and magic seemed a chore.
Lady Morgan arrived and joined in with the girls. She was a lovely lady in her thirties, married to Sir Barlow, she pointed Brandesh to Sarah.
Brandesh tried to join in the fun but was held back by Sarah’s beauty, here perfect form outlined in the shadows of the room. Sarah just stood there blankly murmuring incantations with her shining earrings. He was close enough to kiss her, but was aggravated by her reticence towards him. Though he was a prince she thought him a hood-rat, brown as the scum of the street. Or so young Brandesh thought.
The truth was Brandesh loved Sarah but wasn’t good enough at magic to earn her friendship. The war with the South occupied his every tought. Lacking inspiration, Brandesh huffed off and left the magica. “Time for some soldiering,” he thought.
Guy woke Brandesh up at dawn for soldiering, or sparring as they called it. Swordsmaster Jacob handed them their blades. They were about equals, with Brandish the superior swordsman and Guy superior at fisticuffs.
In the eastern Courts, Brandesh had learned to use a dagger well, and was currently busy rebuffing Guy’s attack.
The castle at Sealcrest overlooked a beautiful hill and from the armory beautiful flowers could be seen, the smell of fresh-baked bread blew up to the armory.
The walls were decorated with every style of weapon known to Triarch, strange Southern knives and Northern maces, and Eastern arrows lined the walls. King Wellturn had started the collection in order to improve Sealcrest’s soldiering. The only person to have mastered very weapon was said to be Captain Lancass, currently lost at sea.
The fat swordsmaster grunted at the music of the spar. Suddenly the King entred.
“Too much loafing boy, off again to the dungeon with you.”
Brandesh was too tired to bother resisting, his father’s word was final.
Push-ups, and rigorous standing exercise, including stretching, kept his spirit up for the unknown amount of time he would be here.
Water dripped off the eerily sun-lit green cell. Bright moss grew on the walls, and the cell smelt of the sea. The bones of the last occupant of the cell sat against the wall, smiling at Brandesh.
He didn’t hate his father for sending him here, as he loved him and knew he would be sad when he was gone.
A little notebook was his only possession in the mossy green dungeon, which he filled with poems and stories of dragons.
His thoughts often drifted to Sarah, from Little Triarch, though he didn’t lust after her, he couldn’t help but think what a great mother she would make.
He was allowed an hour respite to mingle with the other prisoners, some fairly crazy, but some kind souls who simply had broken some laws.
Bang went the door and Queen Semanthia entered.
“Dices,” she said and Brandesh handed the gamblers tools he had stashed away. Sometimes she would offer her son encouragement or often chiding. This was one of the chiding times…
“…And, it’s not your father’s fault you were put here two times before, that was your own mischief.”
The houses of West Triarch ran in a dual-tiered fashion, where the King ran the city, but the Warmaster held equal sway, and seeing as he was a drunk, King Wellturn simply didn’t want to see young Brandesh disappear into the night, Prince or not, victim of the Warmaster’s secret police. Triarch was an unruly land and many crazy things happened.
Brandesh thought of of Sarah, yes, but he wanted to use his magic, what little he kenw of it, to make Triarch a better place, a safe, happier place, and he thought what he had learned in the eastern earldoms would help him achieve that noble goal, but he was stuck in the dungeon.
Brandesh was a rare magician as he was a white, but also knew of the black. Most men couldn’t summon magic beyond a wisp, but Brandesh had the basic mechanics to summon a wolf, but such things were forbidden in the dungeon, as Master Winthrope and the King didn’t always see ye-to-eye on young Brandesh’s training.
Suddenly a fair voice sounded, “Off your knees lad, I’m rescuing you from the Warmaster, word reached me he has ‘ideas’ for you.” It was fair John Brady with a feather in his hat and a merry glint in his eyes, and effeminate posture of the hands, “Be off, you big boy, you’ll find your cell door unlocked. Your friend Captain Lancass is waiting for you at the docks. You’re heading for the East.”
John Brady pulled the brown feather out of his hat and handed it to Brandesh, he then pulled a pair of magical elven shoes from his satchel and handed them to Brandesh. The red shoes slipped on and fit luxuriously.
Brandesh had never run so fast in his life.
Patriciae the black caller and Sarah the white sat in Patriciae’s room, eating sugar treats with Patriciae brushing Sarah’s beautiful almond hair. Squire Jollip sat nearby sipping a coffee-cocoa drink.
Patriciae breathed in deeply before rambling into some trivia or another about Court gossip.
“Who do you think is the best lover in the King’s Court?” Sarah said.
“Certainly not Brandesh, he’s much too thick-headed.” Patriciae said. Both laughed.
Though she had a soft-spot in her heart for young Brandesh, she was currently dating Jollip, who squawked or guffawed at the gossip, saying little.
The lot of them, Brandesh, Guy, Sarah, Patriciae and the others had had time to mix and mingle before, until war came two years earlier.
Patriciae sweetly brushed Sarah’s hair and said, “We had best be at the Warleader’s summons.” The Warmaster needed pet-magicians and the girls were strong, it was only natural.
They appeared in the Warmaster’s Court dressed in black and some blue.
“Girls,” the drunken leader said. “I want you to keep your ears open to any, should we say, unscrupulous activity. I’m talking of those who would relinquish the pleasure of many for the needs of the few. Can you manage that, my dearies?”
Seeing she was being coddled, Sarah spoke. “We will do our best to comply with your will lord.” She held back resistance to not serve the good King instead.
Patriciae simply submissively bowed.
Brandesh’s heart hurt, not just from his jog, but from worry of seeing his friend. Captain Lancass awaited him with a mug of fresh honey-water, as white seagulls flew over the dark-blue ocean.
Captain Lancass was a young captain, only 33, but had a dark expression due to his thick beard, which he kept at full length, even in high summer, which was the season now in West Triarch. An expert in navigation and star-reading, Lancass was a fair but stern captain, he was known for administering a slap on the bottom for a job well-done. Lately, though, he had been administering very few slaps on the bottom, as his lads had been rowdy and drunk on too much Southern wine. He was known to give out seven lashes on the back to sailor acting out of turn for the first offence, the second time he’d simply throw them overboard.
“Set sail,” Lancass said. “And trim the sails, we’re bound east!” An ember of light was preparing to leap out of Brandesh’s hand, just a play by Brandesh, when Lancass said, “Careful, witch boy, as the flame-whelp could take down my vessel.”
Though he joked, Lancass was confident in his ship as he had an alchemist create a special oil, that would resist fire from flame arrows or other flame weapons used in sea combat.
After drifting in the harbor for an hour waiting for authorization, they set out.
Part II,
Princess Sarah stood at Court wearing a blue and gold dress. She was a thing of beauty with her sparking earrings, and was a strong representative for Little Triarch, her home. She felt much safer there than here, as it was her home, and here she could spy the Warmaster leering over her fine body.
The Warmaster was drunk on Navory wine, a city of West Triarch. He clapped in time to the pipe-flute music, with the same hands that had sent many men, even women, to their deaths, those who either caused him trouble, or were simply caught up with someone who had challenged his absolute power.
The ceremony was bedazzled with a number of shining candles, and even a few of the town drunks were carousing at the tables of lower rank.
The King enjoyed the splendor, but felt uncomfortable with crowds bigger than fifteen. He occupied his mind with puzzles and games to pass the time, while the Queen talked to the guests, winning friends and enjoying company. A skilled conversationalist, she kept priority on her partner, and never said anything uncouth.
“How fair ye, good King Wellturn?” The Warmaster said.
“Well as the seven stars let me.” The King replied, referring to an irregular pattern of stars in the summer skies of Triarch.
The two had been friends during war years ago, but their bond had slipped as the Warmaster’s power had come to grow.
“Your boy got away on a ship due east, eh? Not a good place for a lad to be.” The Warmaster said, while several of his soldiers practiced battle forms to the applause of the hundreds assembled there.
“He’s a good lad,” The King said. “Just gets into bad situations.” He said with a sad smile.
Meanwhile Brandesh’s brother, Duke Charlie ate a peach and leaned back. He lived an aesetic lifestyle, rarely drinking and never gambling. He was one of the finest athletes in the nation though, not a magic user like Brandesh. Charlie could run all he wanted but Brandesh would always pin him when they were boys. They shared a deep bond.
Housecarl Minda served out heaping pots full of stew, with bread and fruits and chicken, which Charlie greedily devoured.
“Want to see a bit of magic Duke Charlie?” Sarah said, approaching.
“Anything my lady requests,” He replied.
Suddenly, the summoning of magica yielded a change in the air. In her hand three mini-water wolves circled around a black-red dire wolf, underneath a white whirl-pool hid Sarah’s hand.
“The dire wolf ignores you, but the water wolves are drawn to you.”
“What does that mean?” Duke Charlie said, lost in the chanting white whirl-pool.
Sarah stopped casting and simply gave Charlie a hug.
“When the time comes you will know.” She said, “You’ll know.”
“Will I find love? Great treasure?” Charlie said innocently.
“They sense pure things, you need their magic more then they need you. I am a girl so I have studied such creations for countless years. Go slowly and you’ll find your path.” She said. “The dire ignores you while it comes easier to Brandesh because you’re less willing to risk your life.”
Duke Charlie argued. “But he’s in the dungeon!”
“Not anymore,” Sarah said. “It matters not where he is but where his spirit lays. He’s a good wolf, you’ll find that out soon enough.”
“But…” Charlie started.
“Shh…” And she laid her finger across Duke Charlie’s puffy lips.
Patriciae jumped in with her dancer’s body and spoke, “M’lady, the Warmaster wishes to see us.
“Oh, drat,” Sarah whispered.
Over on the Warmaster’s side of Court a dark aura sat with the soldiers being replaced by a flock of barely clothed dancers, rocking their bodies and even kissing.
The dark Lord spoke, “Girls, for the night you are part of my army, you’ll change into my choice of jewelry, and dance to my battle-hymns, or else… Well, I shouldn’t say, but,” He gulped. “Urp, want to keep your heads yet, eh dearies?”
“Wha-“ Sarah started, then remembered it best not to speak.
“Go to the northern corridor, and weave some magic for your master.”
Patriciae, Sarah and even little Liu walked quickly to the northern corridor.
“This is an adventure, my Daddy loves exploring.” Liu said. The other girls said nothing, knowing many men had died here. “Hush, baby,” Sarah finally said.
They entered the northern corridor to find six men bruised and bloodied from interrogation.
“Girls, save us,” one of the men with a fine jaw and broken nose said.
Sarah covered cute Liu’s eyes until the head interrogator, a leather-faced grizzled man said, “Le the girl see.”
They drew out a lash and whipped each man five times. Then the Warmaster’s pet said, “Chant your magic and ‘deal’ with the true criminals.”
Millions of golden star sparks illuminated the walls white while the girls summoned their energies, a pack of dire wolves appeared and the feeling of magica in the air was palpable. The wolves bloody teeth gnashed, almost ready to pounce.
Master Wintrhope entered, “Stop this nonsense, this is but a girl of ten!”
“Silence old man, she has her orders.” The Warmaster’s pet said. “Find the criminals and deal with them, girls.”
Sarah let out her hand, and a white spirit tiger flew, sashe-ing between the condemned men, suddenly Sarah could see the petty criminals from two men who had done unspeakable things to a young girl, rape, murder and beyond.
She spoke, and linked spiritually, the three said, amongst wolf-howls, “These four are petty criminals, spare them, these two have raped and murdered. Liu put up her hand and the pack of wolves began tearing into the two men with their teeth, gruesomely severing tendon, flesh and bone and scratching with pointy claws.
“Very well, then,” The Warmaster’s pet said. “Off to the dungeon with the rest of them.”
“But they’re innocent!” Sarah said, with Liu and Patriciae taking her back.
“We are done with you for now, trust me, the courts are fair. Dismissed.” He said, with a kind smile and tilt of the head, as if asking “Please.”
When she got back to the girl’s magic corner she had to throw-up.
Brandesh threw-up overboard. He had bad sea-sickness, and was busy getting his sea-legs. Captain Lancass slapped Brandesh incredibly hard across the bottom, guffawing, “You’ll get your sea-legs yet, boy.”
Brandesh had sailed before, but it was on his father’s Naval vessel. The Harp was a different ship entirely, rocking at a wide arc wildly on the waves, careening and crashing, spreading out a thick mist of sea-water.
After munching on a red apple, Brandesh slipped off to the Captain’s quarters, where Lancass sat smoking a pipe with his lover Bethany, who was not smoking. Bethany was the Kitchen girl, and Captain Lancass had punished many a sailor for fantasizing about her kind face and full-body.
Lancass had found her a stow-away when he was 25 and she was 13, he recruited her to his ship soon thereafter, and for social reasons, had made her his partner, though they did not consummate their relationship for five years.
Captain Lancass handed Brandesh a pipe and asked him, “What’s on your mind, boy?” Amidst the stifling heat of his den. Lancass also handed brandish a long pipe, stuffed full of Navory tobacco.
“Enjoy the Navory treat, boy, I’ve had it specially imported.”
“Imported, sounds divine,” Said Brandesh.
“You don’t know the half of it.” Lancass smiled.
They puffed on the sweat Navory tobacco, while Bethany laughed at their jokes.
“I think I’m getting a bit crazy,” Brandesh said.
Lancass brought out his harp and played an old ditty, “The Song of My Green Homeland.” But unforunatly, Lancass as of yet lacked the ability to find the proper temperament for his harp, and when he switched to a strange key, the strings started to sing like wolves.
After the delight Lancass repeated, “What’s on your mind, boy?”
“Everything Lancass, everything, magica… the power of it… and I’m thinking I’m in love with Princess Sarah, but after smoking your fine Navory tobacco I find her looking like an owl-queen of the night, dark, shaded eyes warily looking upon my naked form. Such a strange tobacco.”
Brandesh stared into the ceiling for a minute, then said, “Anyway, she doesn’t seem to love me back.”
“Ah, matters of love I know. I once bedded a slave girl in the south when I was but fourteen, right after I had run from Swanson to Silsilban, 25 miles. I was a bit tired. If you keep your heart open to love you’ll find it one day,” Lancass said.
“It’s just I want to master magic,” Brandesh took a long draw from the pipe, “But I also have to follow my father’s law, but he keeps putting me in the dungeon!”
Lancass puffed his pipe, “You’re old enough to stop sucking on your father’s teat, boy he spat, “You need to cast magic on your own terms.”
“But I can’t, I need his wise council, and his gold, and I still love him, perhaps some distance is advised, though.”
“If you want to keep your balls boy, you had best earn your own gold.”
“Maybe we should say a prayer.”
Lancass just sat there, mute. After five minutes Brandesh asked what was wrong. Lancass said, “Oh, I think I’ve been drawing on this pipe too long, best you go carouse on the upper deck with Guy. I’ll stay here with Bethany.”
Brandesh asked Bethany for a hug, which she hesitatingly gave. Captain Lancass said nothing. It was a warm hug and made Brandesh feel better.
Brandesh walked up the stairs to find first-mate Brooks, hiding between the shadows. He was skinny and long, with a lock of curly hair over his forehead. He also drew from a pipe.
“How fare ye, young Brandesh?” Brooks said.
“Poor, I fear, for I have had too much Navory tobacco, and have spent too much time in my father’s dungeon as well, and this sea-sickness is hard to keep pace with. Though the Navory tobacco has miraculously cured it, it seems.”
Brandesh drew out his sling, and cast out his last stone, which splashed in the calm water. “I feel as if I need to study more magica, but I need my fun,” Brandesh pointed to Brady’s pipe. “Or else it seems like a chore. God help me, I don’t know what to do.”
“I think you need to make your way on the seas as I do, then it will be raining girls and magic.”
“Excuse me dear friend, for I feel nervous.”
“Stay, young lad,” Brooks said, and offered Brandesh his pipe, which the lad took. “You have fire in your eyes, but lack your brother’s good humor, once you get your sea-legs we should take you onboard, we could use a minor caller like you.”
“I don’t know what to do…”
At that, Brooks became silent. At last Brandesh clapped his hands and said, “Music!” Grabbing his lute, soon the two were creating delightful musics.
Brandish absentmindedly patted a small cut on his lip he had acquired after falling during a bout of sea-sickness. He picked up his recorder and soon the twenty-man crew broke into a familiar sea-chanty.
Of all the lost blue sailors, on lost brown ships,
The greatest was Gulladeen, ruby-lip’t,
Dagger in hand, dagger in back,
After chasing away any storms…
Brandesh put down his instrument and, hopping into bed drifted into a sweet sleep, even if his dreams were a bit sea-sickened.
After about a month of sailing, the ship docked in the capitol of the East, called Gin-Gold, and Brandesh felt at home, even though he was a foreigner here, and foreigners were not welcome in Towinia, as the kingdom was called. He had studied here as a boy though, and the landscaped looked familiar enough.
“Best we be off to our bunks,” Guy said. Perhaps your magic can earn us some gold here, as I haven’t the faintest idea what we’re doing here.”
“I’ve got gold from my room, which I took soon after leaving the dungeon. It should last us for our stay here, as living in Towinia is cheap.” Brandesh enthusiastically said.
“Go off and play, lads.” Captain Lancass said. “Brooks and I will be gathering cargo to smuggle for the return to West Triarch.”
They found their beds, blue floor pallets, in the barracks, and when Brandesh asked Guy what they should do first, Guy replied, “Methinks a shrine, then to a magic show!” He jokingly guffawed, Guy was aloof about shrines and magic, but this was Towinia!
Several cute girls eyed the pair as they walked by and Guy tipped his hat, to which they shied away.
The shrine was a fountain shrine, and a thing of beauty, with seven flowing waters, enmeshed within an orchard of pear trees. Brandesh got on his knees and prayed for good luck. Guy plucked off a pear from a full tree and carelessly said, “And now, to the magic battles.”
Only in the eastern kingdoms were men as able, if not better than women at magic, though it was arguable, as few had the courage, even here, to call, or chant, even on this strange continent, male magicians were eyed suspiciously.
They paid a few bronze coins and entered the magic-show.
Two magicians, dressed in finely-garnered uniforms, representing their teams, or schools of magic, approached the stage.
One, named Ken-wane stretched out his neck carefully and like a tiger, stretched out his hands to summon a pack of flame wolves, while his opponent summoned twice the number of weaker dire wolves. What followed was a fierce display of magic, performed by men!
Guy absentmindedly finished his pear and said, “Not bad, but I’d like to try my blade in combat with them, wait, perhaps maybe not,” he finished, after seeing the stunning ruby entities that appeared and disappeared, while dire wolf teeth tried to gnash flames.
“It’s as tender a thing as holding a baby… nothing like combat.” Brandesh kindly said.
“Do you think you’ll ever be able to train with them?” Guy said.
“I think not,” Brandesh said, “Some of the lesser ones, perhaps, the true God willing.”
“That might be nice for you,” Guy said, in this awkward and unfamiliar place he could only be supportive.
“Come, mate, let’s go see what I can do at the magicians corner.”
Young Patriciae, with her dancer’s body, stood doing rigorous stretching exercises, outside the magicians corner, preparing for bed-time, thinking whatever it is young women think about. The war with South Triarch occupied her mind while dozens of wagons raced outside her window.
The summer air was hot, and a thin veil of sweat shimmered underneath of her evening gown. “Why has our lovely Triarch come to be cursed?” She wondered amidst the screech and moan of brown wagons. She was a young lady, and felt quite unsure of her place in the world. Brandesh would surely bring her mood up, but word had reached her that he had set out for that he had set out for the East. Screams and shouts from drunken men left her feeling uneasy, and she wished she could have a friend like Brandesh to warm her heart. As if by the true God’s wisdom, Princess Sarah walked in.
“Can I talk to you?” She asked.
“Of course!” Patricia replied.
“It’s just that things seem boring around here with Brandesh gone.”
“True,” she replied, while reaching her arm out to grab a purple-bitter berry off the green vine outside, playing with it between her teeth and tongue. “Even if he is thick-headed.”
Shaking her head and laughing Sarah said, “Maybe a bit of magic sharing would help our mood.”
“Magica! Magica!” Patriciae said with a clown’s smile.
But soon the pink room’s mood got more mysterious as the girls matched palms, stretching back to form a blue arc of energy. Magic play was the way magical girls communicated spiritually. The blue arc of energy phased into pink, then white, then back to blue again, alternating in a rhythm as the girls probed eachother’s magica, and their bodies flushed with warm blood, making their cheeks rosy.
What was to become of a magical girl? Be a pretty doll for some minor Earl to marry? For yes, the magic lent their faces a beautiful glow. Or would they lend their powers to the weak of spirit? Or were they like buzzing hummingbirds, hopping from flower to flower, or angels dancing from star to star?
The truth was, though, that they were the Warmaster’s pets for now, until some hero could rescue them. They would war his jewelry and sing to his tune, and yes, they had lovely voices, you should know… or else they would disappear in the night, forgotten girls.
They had never felt so together and yet so alone in their lives. Trouble lent a heavy-sky over fair Triarch.
They kissed eachother goodnight and headed off to bed.
Master Winthrope stood, blankly staring at an open space on his white, magical wall. He began to pace the room furiously. His mind was full of ideas, but he had nowhere to put them. He was worried about his girls, but as it is with most, he was also worried about himself. His students, all girls, were concerned with everything but magica, it seemed. He thought about heading up to the local tavern for an ale, but then thought the better of it, he shouldn’t be going to the bar in this state of nervous consciousness. He stroked his thick, white beard. He, in truth, despised the Warmaster, and all of his dark doings. A shining ray of hope for him was young Brandesh, his favorite student, who had the wisdom in magic and discipline in combat to lead West Trairch out of the trouble it was in.
For in West Triarch, also called Costania, trouble was evident, Minor Earls warred for scraps while the nation’s true economy was beginning to crumble.
“Lack of discipline,” he thought, “And a lack of energy to deal with the reality that stood before them.”
He took out his pipe, and very slowly puffing, thought.
He couldn’t help but think of the girls.
Sarah was casting her magic fine, in fact all the girls were, but her body wasn’t free to work, she was attempting to master water magic without understanding air magic. The power of the white winds could heal any withered grass. Her true path was with the dire wolves, and against a skilled Towinian water magician she would be devoured. Winthrope knew of the East, yes, though few truly did, and he wasn’t pleased with the girls at all.
Brandesh started his day some Navory tobacco and vigorous push-ups, but was frustrated that his magic was no match for the Towinian casters. Where his record at Sealcrest would be high, here he had gone two and five in his magic duels, and he was beginning to think he had no idea what he was doing.
He walked to the magician’s corner, a stone-building where young callers went to hone their craft. He went and found his partner, Chu-sup, from the Eastern city of Fin-cheon, and soon they were in a trance-state, batteling between their minds.
A pack of grey dire wolves rallied to where young Brandesh had summoned them. His mind was far from Sealcrest’s dungeons.
“What do you fear, brother?” The strange Chu-sup said.
“Nothing,” Brandesh’s mind answered, as he sent his dire wolves to meet Chu-sup’s water wolves, and the two clashed in a titanic battle held within the mind, racing over green-grass, blue sky shining down, in an environment controlled to be whatever the callers wished. Chu-sup was the superior caller, by far, but was impressed when Brandesh took a few matches off him.
“What is it you seek?” Chu-sup asked.
“To be one with a female caller, he name is Sarah.”
“Be a man, Prince.” Was Chu-sup’s reply.
The wolves ran amok on the green lush, breezy field, tearing at each other with Chu-sup of course winning victorious. Chu then pulled Brandesh’s mind to his and Brandesh’s vision turned to black. He felt like a cat left in a dark closet as his eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness.
“Here you are safe, but you travel back to a land that is not welcoming to magicians,: Chu-sup said. Suddenly Brandesh felt a warm hand on his neck and knew by the gentle touch that it must be Chu’s. Suddenly two young Towinian girls danced in the now sunlit field, doing rollovers and cartwheels. “These are my nieces. Make this world safe for them, brother.” Was all Chu-sup said.
Princess Sarah sat chewing on a sweet-pastry locked away safely in her august room. She had just finished her evening bath and was sitting, fresh and lovely and clean in her night-gown awaiting Sir John Mellowford, who she had begun dating since Brandesh had ben thrown in the dungeon, though it was only by coincidence, she was Princess of Little Triarch, her father scary King Downbrow, and she would see whomever she deemed appropriate, and in truth she barely knew Brandesh existed as he was so quiet, and she knew he was off journeying with captain Lancass and the youthful Guy.
Mellowford was a young son of a rich merchant of Costania, and was quite excited to be dating the young Princess, his stupid smile could not be mistaken as he bragged to his friends and family about her ample bosom. The two had begun a relationship recently and everything was as it should be, as the Mellowfords ran a huge allotment of resources coming into Sealcrest, and they were a good match.
Sarah was complacent in her relationship, she had a friend for romance and was free to spend the rest of her time with spellcraft.
The door opened, and rather then Sir Mellowford, it was little Patriciae saying, “I’ve brought us some water pups to play with!”
“Where’s Sir Mellowford?” Sarah replied.
“Oh, he’s out at a wrestling fair in the country, I thought we could play.” Patriciae said, as her wolf pups ran, bouncing into the room.
Sarah stood a bit flummoxed, but laughed as a wolf pup nibbled at her feet.
As if wishing to chant, Sarah broke into a song they both knew.
towinia(dot)blogspot(dot)com
Part I
The world of Triarch is at horrendous war, only the magicians trained in the legendary Towinia can save it, follow young Brandesh as he chronicles his way through the amazing world of Triarch, and beyond.
Brandesh picked up his spear, it was thick with sweat and other juices he had staining his finely trimmed nails. The need for more combat was quite strong, for he felt his spirit beginning to tire. Guy waited beside quietly, seeing that all the true combat had ended.
Glory seemed an easy enough thing to achieve, but was mysterious in its actual value. Shredded victims of a dark army of yielded gold and treasure, but sometimes the jade chest of victory lent nothing but empty space. Brandesh’s father, the King, had yielded such wisdom, but was just as often found to be silent.
The path of a soldier was a hard one, rigorous daily exercises and sparring had young Brandesh a fine, fine soldier. Occasional sessions of heavy eating still left him with a tough frame.
The spear was a simple silver combat spear. Good value, but its use was simple, blocking and deflecting swords.
His blue kingdom tabard was smeared with red blood. But fashion truly mattered little to young Brandesh. Nightmares had plagued his few moments of sleep since the combat ended seven weeks ago.
The dynasties of Triarch were as political as they were variegated. Brandesh’s family sported the green eagle signet, and his green ring drew many unwanted combatants to him, pulsing as his red blood pumped through him. His father was King of the West and his mother his faithful Queen. He was only 23 years old and he was excited to graduate from soldiering to leadership, where his father excelled. In Triarch there were three houses, the West, North and South. The South was called Stillguard, and wore white cloaks and its women kept their hair covered, due to the hundred degree heat. Brandesh had just fought to defend the castle at Farcoast, a hotly contested coast.
There was also a so called Eastern continent, separate from the other content by an ocean called Ice Ocean, fostering some blackhats, named for the fashion many youths of the East sported, covering their foreheads.
The South and West were at war endlessly, Stillguard was led by many tribal warleaders, head of which was the great King Shagdar, and the resplendent Queen Tri-na, both fierce and unyielding.
“I think that’s the end of it,” Guy said.
“Where is the enemy?”
Brandesh had replaced the silver spear with the more dexterous dagger. Seeing the battle was over, he at last put down his dagger.
“That was some fight, I could use an ale!” Guy said.
“Me too,” Brandesh said quietly.
Being in the stage-lights was a pain in Brandesh’s young heart, especially having to see Princess Sarah, as his battle-blood didn’t mix well with Court intrigue.
Suddenly a flame-wolf leapt out of the corner, and Brandesh grabbed it whole, burning his hands. They rolled until Brandesh gained the upper-hand and did the beast in. The magical wolves were small, but hard to master as pets.
Guy helped his friend up. “maybe to or three ales for you, you look tired as a dog.”
Though tired and pained, all he could thing about was Sarah.
Sarah danced happily with Patriciae on a veranda bathed in starlight, their lithe bodies moving in a beautiful fashion, they had flowers in their hair and their minds danced over women’s concerns. The Veranda was covered with thick green vines covered in purple-bitter berries.
“Come here you two or I’ll let you dance in the dungeons!”
The girls rushed to grab their wands, such devices were truly unneeded in higher magic, which the girls studied, but remained in use for training.
Master Winthrope sauntered in, tall and heavy of shoulder, with a long white beard.
“I know you girls are past flame-wolves, but I think Patriciae could use the true God’s guidance on water-beasts, seeing the young students didget he let out a merry laugh.
Princess Sarah was part of the white path and Patriciae the black, both worshipped the true God, but Patriciae was new to the various spells and counter-spells.
The making of spells was created centuries earlier, since Leviticare summoned the first dire-wolf and kept two pups as pets, causing farmer muffins much distress. But beyond him, it was discovered women were more attuned to magic. It involved intense concentration and one slip or shake couldn’t alter the careful summoning of energies.
Sarah was a skilled caller, she has silky, voluptuous hair and held herself with beautiful grace and poise. Patriciae was newer to magic, but something else entirely in life. The two girls were very sweet to each-other.
The ladies worked on their flame-wolves and nodding his head in approval, Master Winthrope said, “Good, now put down your wands.”
“Now I want you at summons, Farcoast is saved, and the King’s retinue will be returning to Sealcrest.
Patriciae played with the little water-pup she had summoned, perhaps the only one who knew what was on Princess Sarah’s mind. Meanwhile purple-bitter berries dripped off the vine.
The tribal war-horn announced the King’s war-council. Brandesh was a south fighter, but was tired from the long journey. Guy held a grin at seeing the spires of Sealcrest, rising high into the sky.
Master Winthrope conjured a magical harp and began to play a dance tune. Meanwhile young Angel and Liu had joined in the girl’s play, while Master Winthrope clapped in time with the dancing. Angel was a girl of 12, and Liu likewise, Angel was a white and sported blonde hair, Liu had black hair and was a skilled seamstress of water-magic, as such language was used by girl-magicians. Liu had a boyfriend named Gregory, who became ashen at any court intrigue, but was a good boy. Sarah welled up with tears, as these girls were like family.
Um, hello, I just wanted to say hi,” Brandesh said, after he suddenly appeared in proper regalia.
“Hi, how are you,” said Sarah.
“Well, Brandesh thoughtfully replied. The other girls giggled, Brandesh wished he didn’t feel so nervous, he’d be more comfortable doing push-ups. He was quite enamored with Sarah, they were not of relation, but had studied together in church for years.
“Here, try to control this dire wolf,” Sarah said.
Brandesh controlled the pup somewhat easily and somewhat intensely, for it was as tender a thing as holding a baby, a misstep could destroy the ‘house of magic’ as the girls called their calls. But Brandesh was skilled in the art somewhat after training with some blackhat youth on a visit to the East.
Sarah’s face was beautiful mask of calm, she was merely 19, studying at the academy of Sealcrest, she was like a river, but her thoughts disparaged this idiot of a caster. He wasn’t holding the pup right at all! In fairness he was doing fine, but he was too much of a soldier right now.
Sarah said nothing, and Brandesh knew nothing of her thoughts. Princess Sarah came from a different section of the West Little Triarch, and the city of Sematnthia, with some of the toughest soldier in Triarch, Sarah had been hurt by a one, hurt badly, and locked herself away with dancing and magic.
“What is this flambosery? Get down to dinner Brandesh, you have work in the stables tomorrow!” Qeeun Semanthia announced. She was a sweet Queen, and had mothered Brandesh well.
“See ya,” said Brandesh, followed by the same from princess Sarah.
As they walked away Patriciae hummed a familiar tune.
Of all the fallen angels and seraphim,
The raven-Queen calls all to her,
In her warm breast, culled within,
To want or need no more.
It was a young night, and Patriciae knew more mischief was in store.
Three little water pups followed her. Even a little water cat adorned her room. When she was with Brandesh, she felt like she could fall into his strong arms, but she was only a girl of fifteen, she didn’t care for boys, or dogs as she often found them. Her bathroom had a black brush, toothbrush and large white block of soap. When the moon appeared her first thought was on readying a bath, and she called a servant to help her prepare one. The water pups would lick her feet and she’d giggle at the attention. As she washed with the soap she thought, “Maybe I’m in love with Brandesh.” Then she laughed, “But I’ll never be a Queen.”
She called the water pups and cat into the bath after dressing, resolving their energies.
Her heart wasn’t only concerned with matters of love, the war with South Triarch had given her nightmares, as they had siege weapons cached in Highpoint, south of Farcoast. She had had nightmares about those siege engines killing her family here at Sealcrest. She had absolute faith that Brandesh could stop them if the King faltered. She had a friend from the South, named Accasia, she was from the South, but she was indeed good, loyal and true and had Patriciae had no idea why their nations warred, perhaps gold, she mused.
She put on an herbal masque of green herbs and white cream, and slowly stepped into bed.
Brandesh breathed out as he lifted the last bundle of hay. He was a magician with the sword, but not much with real magic, perhaps, no he should as God for guidance on things magical. He then walked to his master’s offices.
A conjuration of white ghosts flew over and lent illumination to the gold and silver arches that lined the room in a square pattern.
“How are you boy? War comes, from the South yes, but from the North too, even the eastern nations prepare for war. Have no doubt boy, war is coming, best if you can carry on when the honorable King leaves us, God bless his soul, best you learn some magic… I know you worry for your hands, but you have work to do, heal this cursed Triarch and make it pure again. Perhaps forget bedding my girls and learn!”
“The thought never crossed my mind, sir.” Brandesh said. Such advice seared young Brandesh’s heart, but he knew if he was to defend the kingdom he would have to learn magic, even if it was a womanly skill.
“Sarah? Err, Princess Sarah?” He said.
“Yes boy, go seek her out.” Winthrope said.
Brandesh left, he was no stranger to tough love, his father had even thrown him in the dungeon several times for acting unruly.
Brandesh’s mind was a mess. He heard, or imagined too much, or was too uncontrolled, he was a good boy, but it didn’t always show. He prayed to walk in the light every night.
He half-stumbled up to the magician’s corner as it was called. All the girls were waiting there sewing magic together. The only one missing was Sarah, who arrived and her things down. There was some sort of disconnect between Brandesh and Sarah, perhaps because Brandesh was a complete novice at magic.
Brandesh sat down cross-legged and tried to work magic, but his mind was blocked and magic seemed a chore.
Lady Morgan arrived and joined in with the girls. She was a lovely lady in her thirties, married to Sir Barlow, she pointed Brandesh to Sarah.
Brandesh tried to join in the fun but was held back by Sarah’s beauty, here perfect form outlined in the shadows of the room. Sarah just stood there blankly murmuring incantations with her shining earrings. He was close enough to kiss her, but was aggravated by her reticence towards him. Though he was a prince she thought him a hood-rat, brown as the scum of the street. Or so young Brandesh thought.
The truth was Brandesh loved Sarah but wasn’t good enough at magic to earn her friendship. The war with the South occupied his every tought. Lacking inspiration, Brandesh huffed off and left the magica. “Time for some soldiering,” he thought.
Guy woke Brandesh up at dawn for soldiering, or sparring as they called it. Swordsmaster Jacob handed them their blades. They were about equals, with Brandish the superior swordsman and Guy superior at fisticuffs.
In the eastern Courts, Brandesh had learned to use a dagger well, and was currently busy rebuffing Guy’s attack.
The castle at Sealcrest overlooked a beautiful hill and from the armory beautiful flowers could be seen, the smell of fresh-baked bread blew up to the armory.
The walls were decorated with every style of weapon known to Triarch, strange Southern knives and Northern maces, and Eastern arrows lined the walls. King Wellturn had started the collection in order to improve Sealcrest’s soldiering. The only person to have mastered very weapon was said to be Captain Lancass, currently lost at sea.
The fat swordsmaster grunted at the music of the spar. Suddenly the King entred.
“Too much loafing boy, off again to the dungeon with you.”
Brandesh was too tired to bother resisting, his father’s word was final.
Push-ups, and rigorous standing exercise, including stretching, kept his spirit up for the unknown amount of time he would be here.
Water dripped off the eerily sun-lit green cell. Bright moss grew on the walls, and the cell smelt of the sea. The bones of the last occupant of the cell sat against the wall, smiling at Brandesh.
He didn’t hate his father for sending him here, as he loved him and knew he would be sad when he was gone.
A little notebook was his only possession in the mossy green dungeon, which he filled with poems and stories of dragons.
His thoughts often drifted to Sarah, from Little Triarch, though he didn’t lust after her, he couldn’t help but think what a great mother she would make.
He was allowed an hour respite to mingle with the other prisoners, some fairly crazy, but some kind souls who simply had broken some laws.
Bang went the door and Queen Semanthia entered.
“Dices,” she said and Brandesh handed the gamblers tools he had stashed away. Sometimes she would offer her son encouragement or often chiding. This was one of the chiding times…
“…And, it’s not your father’s fault you were put here two times before, that was your own mischief.”
The houses of West Triarch ran in a dual-tiered fashion, where the King ran the city, but the Warmaster held equal sway, and seeing as he was a drunk, King Wellturn simply didn’t want to see young Brandesh disappear into the night, Prince or not, victim of the Warmaster’s secret police. Triarch was an unruly land and many crazy things happened.
Brandesh thought of of Sarah, yes, but he wanted to use his magic, what little he kenw of it, to make Triarch a better place, a safe, happier place, and he thought what he had learned in the eastern earldoms would help him achieve that noble goal, but he was stuck in the dungeon.
Brandesh was a rare magician as he was a white, but also knew of the black. Most men couldn’t summon magic beyond a wisp, but Brandesh had the basic mechanics to summon a wolf, but such things were forbidden in the dungeon, as Master Winthrope and the King didn’t always see ye-to-eye on young Brandesh’s training.
Suddenly a fair voice sounded, “Off your knees lad, I’m rescuing you from the Warmaster, word reached me he has ‘ideas’ for you.” It was fair John Brady with a feather in his hat and a merry glint in his eyes, and effeminate posture of the hands, “Be off, you big boy, you’ll find your cell door unlocked. Your friend Captain Lancass is waiting for you at the docks. You’re heading for the East.”
John Brady pulled the brown feather out of his hat and handed it to Brandesh, he then pulled a pair of magical elven shoes from his satchel and handed them to Brandesh. The red shoes slipped on and fit luxuriously.
Brandesh had never run so fast in his life.
Patriciae the black caller and Sarah the white sat in Patriciae’s room, eating sugar treats with Patriciae brushing Sarah’s beautiful almond hair. Squire Jollip sat nearby sipping a coffee-cocoa drink.
Patriciae breathed in deeply before rambling into some trivia or another about Court gossip.
“Who do you think is the best lover in the King’s Court?” Sarah said.
“Certainly not Brandesh, he’s much too thick-headed.” Patriciae said. Both laughed.
Though she had a soft-spot in her heart for young Brandesh, she was currently dating Jollip, who squawked or guffawed at the gossip, saying little.
The lot of them, Brandesh, Guy, Sarah, Patriciae and the others had had time to mix and mingle before, until war came two years earlier.
Patriciae sweetly brushed Sarah’s hair and said, “We had best be at the Warleader’s summons.” The Warmaster needed pet-magicians and the girls were strong, it was only natural.
They appeared in the Warmaster’s Court dressed in black and some blue.
“Girls,” the drunken leader said. “I want you to keep your ears open to any, should we say, unscrupulous activity. I’m talking of those who would relinquish the pleasure of many for the needs of the few. Can you manage that, my dearies?”
Seeing she was being coddled, Sarah spoke. “We will do our best to comply with your will lord.” She held back resistance to not serve the good King instead.
Patriciae simply submissively bowed.
Brandesh’s heart hurt, not just from his jog, but from worry of seeing his friend. Captain Lancass awaited him with a mug of fresh honey-water, as white seagulls flew over the dark-blue ocean.
Captain Lancass was a young captain, only 33, but had a dark expression due to his thick beard, which he kept at full length, even in high summer, which was the season now in West Triarch. An expert in navigation and star-reading, Lancass was a fair but stern captain, he was known for administering a slap on the bottom for a job well-done. Lately, though, he had been administering very few slaps on the bottom, as his lads had been rowdy and drunk on too much Southern wine. He was known to give out seven lashes on the back to sailor acting out of turn for the first offence, the second time he’d simply throw them overboard.
“Set sail,” Lancass said. “And trim the sails, we’re bound east!” An ember of light was preparing to leap out of Brandesh’s hand, just a play by Brandesh, when Lancass said, “Careful, witch boy, as the flame-whelp could take down my vessel.”
Though he joked, Lancass was confident in his ship as he had an alchemist create a special oil, that would resist fire from flame arrows or other flame weapons used in sea combat.
After drifting in the harbor for an hour waiting for authorization, they set out.
Part II,
Princess Sarah stood at Court wearing a blue and gold dress. She was a thing of beauty with her sparking earrings, and was a strong representative for Little Triarch, her home. She felt much safer there than here, as it was her home, and here she could spy the Warmaster leering over her fine body.
The Warmaster was drunk on Navory wine, a city of West Triarch. He clapped in time to the pipe-flute music, with the same hands that had sent many men, even women, to their deaths, those who either caused him trouble, or were simply caught up with someone who had challenged his absolute power.
The ceremony was bedazzled with a number of shining candles, and even a few of the town drunks were carousing at the tables of lower rank.
The King enjoyed the splendor, but felt uncomfortable with crowds bigger than fifteen. He occupied his mind with puzzles and games to pass the time, while the Queen talked to the guests, winning friends and enjoying company. A skilled conversationalist, she kept priority on her partner, and never said anything uncouth.
“How fair ye, good King Wellturn?” The Warmaster said.
“Well as the seven stars let me.” The King replied, referring to an irregular pattern of stars in the summer skies of Triarch.
The two had been friends during war years ago, but their bond had slipped as the Warmaster’s power had come to grow.
“Your boy got away on a ship due east, eh? Not a good place for a lad to be.” The Warmaster said, while several of his soldiers practiced battle forms to the applause of the hundreds assembled there.
“He’s a good lad,” The King said. “Just gets into bad situations.” He said with a sad smile.
Meanwhile Brandesh’s brother, Duke Charlie ate a peach and leaned back. He lived an aesetic lifestyle, rarely drinking and never gambling. He was one of the finest athletes in the nation though, not a magic user like Brandesh. Charlie could run all he wanted but Brandesh would always pin him when they were boys. They shared a deep bond.
Housecarl Minda served out heaping pots full of stew, with bread and fruits and chicken, which Charlie greedily devoured.
“Want to see a bit of magic Duke Charlie?” Sarah said, approaching.
“Anything my lady requests,” He replied.
Suddenly, the summoning of magica yielded a change in the air. In her hand three mini-water wolves circled around a black-red dire wolf, underneath a white whirl-pool hid Sarah’s hand.
“The dire wolf ignores you, but the water wolves are drawn to you.”
“What does that mean?” Duke Charlie said, lost in the chanting white whirl-pool.
Sarah stopped casting and simply gave Charlie a hug.
“When the time comes you will know.” She said, “You’ll know.”
“Will I find love? Great treasure?” Charlie said innocently.
“They sense pure things, you need their magic more then they need you. I am a girl so I have studied such creations for countless years. Go slowly and you’ll find your path.” She said. “The dire ignores you while it comes easier to Brandesh because you’re less willing to risk your life.”
Duke Charlie argued. “But he’s in the dungeon!”
“Not anymore,” Sarah said. “It matters not where he is but where his spirit lays. He’s a good wolf, you’ll find that out soon enough.”
“But…” Charlie started.
“Shh…” And she laid her finger across Duke Charlie’s puffy lips.
Patriciae jumped in with her dancer’s body and spoke, “M’lady, the Warmaster wishes to see us.
“Oh, drat,” Sarah whispered.
Over on the Warmaster’s side of Court a dark aura sat with the soldiers being replaced by a flock of barely clothed dancers, rocking their bodies and even kissing.
The dark Lord spoke, “Girls, for the night you are part of my army, you’ll change into my choice of jewelry, and dance to my battle-hymns, or else… Well, I shouldn’t say, but,” He gulped. “Urp, want to keep your heads yet, eh dearies?”
“Wha-“ Sarah started, then remembered it best not to speak.
“Go to the northern corridor, and weave some magic for your master.”
Patriciae, Sarah and even little Liu walked quickly to the northern corridor.
“This is an adventure, my Daddy loves exploring.” Liu said. The other girls said nothing, knowing many men had died here. “Hush, baby,” Sarah finally said.
They entered the northern corridor to find six men bruised and bloodied from interrogation.
“Girls, save us,” one of the men with a fine jaw and broken nose said.
Sarah covered cute Liu’s eyes until the head interrogator, a leather-faced grizzled man said, “Le the girl see.”
They drew out a lash and whipped each man five times. Then the Warmaster’s pet said, “Chant your magic and ‘deal’ with the true criminals.”
Millions of golden star sparks illuminated the walls white while the girls summoned their energies, a pack of dire wolves appeared and the feeling of magica in the air was palpable. The wolves bloody teeth gnashed, almost ready to pounce.
Master Wintrhope entered, “Stop this nonsense, this is but a girl of ten!”
“Silence old man, she has her orders.” The Warmaster’s pet said. “Find the criminals and deal with them, girls.”
Sarah let out her hand, and a white spirit tiger flew, sashe-ing between the condemned men, suddenly Sarah could see the petty criminals from two men who had done unspeakable things to a young girl, rape, murder and beyond.
She spoke, and linked spiritually, the three said, amongst wolf-howls, “These four are petty criminals, spare them, these two have raped and murdered. Liu put up her hand and the pack of wolves began tearing into the two men with their teeth, gruesomely severing tendon, flesh and bone and scratching with pointy claws.
“Very well, then,” The Warmaster’s pet said. “Off to the dungeon with the rest of them.”
“But they’re innocent!” Sarah said, with Liu and Patriciae taking her back.
“We are done with you for now, trust me, the courts are fair. Dismissed.” He said, with a kind smile and tilt of the head, as if asking “Please.”
When she got back to the girl’s magic corner she had to throw-up.
Brandesh threw-up overboard. He had bad sea-sickness, and was busy getting his sea-legs. Captain Lancass slapped Brandesh incredibly hard across the bottom, guffawing, “You’ll get your sea-legs yet, boy.”
Brandesh had sailed before, but it was on his father’s Naval vessel. The Harp was a different ship entirely, rocking at a wide arc wildly on the waves, careening and crashing, spreading out a thick mist of sea-water.
After munching on a red apple, Brandesh slipped off to the Captain’s quarters, where Lancass sat smoking a pipe with his lover Bethany, who was not smoking. Bethany was the Kitchen girl, and Captain Lancass had punished many a sailor for fantasizing about her kind face and full-body.
Lancass had found her a stow-away when he was 25 and she was 13, he recruited her to his ship soon thereafter, and for social reasons, had made her his partner, though they did not consummate their relationship for five years.
Captain Lancass handed Brandesh a pipe and asked him, “What’s on your mind, boy?” Amidst the stifling heat of his den. Lancass also handed brandish a long pipe, stuffed full of Navory tobacco.
“Enjoy the Navory treat, boy, I’ve had it specially imported.”
“Imported, sounds divine,” Said Brandesh.
“You don’t know the half of it.” Lancass smiled.
They puffed on the sweat Navory tobacco, while Bethany laughed at their jokes.
“I think I’m getting a bit crazy,” Brandesh said.
Lancass brought out his harp and played an old ditty, “The Song of My Green Homeland.” But unforunatly, Lancass as of yet lacked the ability to find the proper temperament for his harp, and when he switched to a strange key, the strings started to sing like wolves.
After the delight Lancass repeated, “What’s on your mind, boy?”
“Everything Lancass, everything, magica… the power of it… and I’m thinking I’m in love with Princess Sarah, but after smoking your fine Navory tobacco I find her looking like an owl-queen of the night, dark, shaded eyes warily looking upon my naked form. Such a strange tobacco.”
Brandesh stared into the ceiling for a minute, then said, “Anyway, she doesn’t seem to love me back.”
“Ah, matters of love I know. I once bedded a slave girl in the south when I was but fourteen, right after I had run from Swanson to Silsilban, 25 miles. I was a bit tired. If you keep your heart open to love you’ll find it one day,” Lancass said.
“It’s just I want to master magic,” Brandesh took a long draw from the pipe, “But I also have to follow my father’s law, but he keeps putting me in the dungeon!”
Lancass puffed his pipe, “You’re old enough to stop sucking on your father’s teat, boy he spat, “You need to cast magic on your own terms.”
“But I can’t, I need his wise council, and his gold, and I still love him, perhaps some distance is advised, though.”
“If you want to keep your balls boy, you had best earn your own gold.”
“Maybe we should say a prayer.”
Lancass just sat there, mute. After five minutes Brandesh asked what was wrong. Lancass said, “Oh, I think I’ve been drawing on this pipe too long, best you go carouse on the upper deck with Guy. I’ll stay here with Bethany.”
Brandesh asked Bethany for a hug, which she hesitatingly gave. Captain Lancass said nothing. It was a warm hug and made Brandesh feel better.
Brandesh walked up the stairs to find first-mate Brooks, hiding between the shadows. He was skinny and long, with a lock of curly hair over his forehead. He also drew from a pipe.
“How fare ye, young Brandesh?” Brooks said.
“Poor, I fear, for I have had too much Navory tobacco, and have spent too much time in my father’s dungeon as well, and this sea-sickness is hard to keep pace with. Though the Navory tobacco has miraculously cured it, it seems.”
Brandesh drew out his sling, and cast out his last stone, which splashed in the calm water. “I feel as if I need to study more magica, but I need my fun,” Brandesh pointed to Brady’s pipe. “Or else it seems like a chore. God help me, I don’t know what to do.”
“I think you need to make your way on the seas as I do, then it will be raining girls and magic.”
“Excuse me dear friend, for I feel nervous.”
“Stay, young lad,” Brooks said, and offered Brandesh his pipe, which the lad took. “You have fire in your eyes, but lack your brother’s good humor, once you get your sea-legs we should take you onboard, we could use a minor caller like you.”
“I don’t know what to do…”
At that, Brooks became silent. At last Brandesh clapped his hands and said, “Music!” Grabbing his lute, soon the two were creating delightful musics.
Brandish absentmindedly patted a small cut on his lip he had acquired after falling during a bout of sea-sickness. He picked up his recorder and soon the twenty-man crew broke into a familiar sea-chanty.
Of all the lost blue sailors, on lost brown ships,
The greatest was Gulladeen, ruby-lip’t,
Dagger in hand, dagger in back,
After chasing away any storms…
Brandesh put down his instrument and, hopping into bed drifted into a sweet sleep, even if his dreams were a bit sea-sickened.
After about a month of sailing, the ship docked in the capitol of the East, called Gin-Gold, and Brandesh felt at home, even though he was a foreigner here, and foreigners were not welcome in Towinia, as the kingdom was called. He had studied here as a boy though, and the landscaped looked familiar enough.
“Best we be off to our bunks,” Guy said. Perhaps your magic can earn us some gold here, as I haven’t the faintest idea what we’re doing here.”
“I’ve got gold from my room, which I took soon after leaving the dungeon. It should last us for our stay here, as living in Towinia is cheap.” Brandesh enthusiastically said.
“Go off and play, lads.” Captain Lancass said. “Brooks and I will be gathering cargo to smuggle for the return to West Triarch.”
They found their beds, blue floor pallets, in the barracks, and when Brandesh asked Guy what they should do first, Guy replied, “Methinks a shrine, then to a magic show!” He jokingly guffawed, Guy was aloof about shrines and magic, but this was Towinia!
Several cute girls eyed the pair as they walked by and Guy tipped his hat, to which they shied away.
The shrine was a fountain shrine, and a thing of beauty, with seven flowing waters, enmeshed within an orchard of pear trees. Brandesh got on his knees and prayed for good luck. Guy plucked off a pear from a full tree and carelessly said, “And now, to the magic battles.”
Only in the eastern kingdoms were men as able, if not better than women at magic, though it was arguable, as few had the courage, even here, to call, or chant, even on this strange continent, male magicians were eyed suspiciously.
They paid a few bronze coins and entered the magic-show.
Two magicians, dressed in finely-garnered uniforms, representing their teams, or schools of magic, approached the stage.
One, named Ken-wane stretched out his neck carefully and like a tiger, stretched out his hands to summon a pack of flame wolves, while his opponent summoned twice the number of weaker dire wolves. What followed was a fierce display of magic, performed by men!
Guy absentmindedly finished his pear and said, “Not bad, but I’d like to try my blade in combat with them, wait, perhaps maybe not,” he finished, after seeing the stunning ruby entities that appeared and disappeared, while dire wolf teeth tried to gnash flames.
“It’s as tender a thing as holding a baby… nothing like combat.” Brandesh kindly said.
“Do you think you’ll ever be able to train with them?” Guy said.
“I think not,” Brandesh said, “Some of the lesser ones, perhaps, the true God willing.”
“That might be nice for you,” Guy said, in this awkward and unfamiliar place he could only be supportive.
“Come, mate, let’s go see what I can do at the magicians corner.”
Young Patriciae, with her dancer’s body, stood doing rigorous stretching exercises, outside the magicians corner, preparing for bed-time, thinking whatever it is young women think about. The war with South Triarch occupied her mind while dozens of wagons raced outside her window.
The summer air was hot, and a thin veil of sweat shimmered underneath of her evening gown. “Why has our lovely Triarch come to be cursed?” She wondered amidst the screech and moan of brown wagons. She was a young lady, and felt quite unsure of her place in the world. Brandesh would surely bring her mood up, but word had reached her that he had set out for that he had set out for the East. Screams and shouts from drunken men left her feeling uneasy, and she wished she could have a friend like Brandesh to warm her heart. As if by the true God’s wisdom, Princess Sarah walked in.
“Can I talk to you?” She asked.
“Of course!” Patricia replied.
“It’s just that things seem boring around here with Brandesh gone.”
“True,” she replied, while reaching her arm out to grab a purple-bitter berry off the green vine outside, playing with it between her teeth and tongue. “Even if he is thick-headed.”
Shaking her head and laughing Sarah said, “Maybe a bit of magic sharing would help our mood.”
“Magica! Magica!” Patriciae said with a clown’s smile.
But soon the pink room’s mood got more mysterious as the girls matched palms, stretching back to form a blue arc of energy. Magic play was the way magical girls communicated spiritually. The blue arc of energy phased into pink, then white, then back to blue again, alternating in a rhythm as the girls probed eachother’s magica, and their bodies flushed with warm blood, making their cheeks rosy.
What was to become of a magical girl? Be a pretty doll for some minor Earl to marry? For yes, the magic lent their faces a beautiful glow. Or would they lend their powers to the weak of spirit? Or were they like buzzing hummingbirds, hopping from flower to flower, or angels dancing from star to star?
The truth was, though, that they were the Warmaster’s pets for now, until some hero could rescue them. They would war his jewelry and sing to his tune, and yes, they had lovely voices, you should know… or else they would disappear in the night, forgotten girls.
They had never felt so together and yet so alone in their lives. Trouble lent a heavy-sky over fair Triarch.
They kissed eachother goodnight and headed off to bed.
Master Winthrope stood, blankly staring at an open space on his white, magical wall. He began to pace the room furiously. His mind was full of ideas, but he had nowhere to put them. He was worried about his girls, but as it is with most, he was also worried about himself. His students, all girls, were concerned with everything but magica, it seemed. He thought about heading up to the local tavern for an ale, but then thought the better of it, he shouldn’t be going to the bar in this state of nervous consciousness. He stroked his thick, white beard. He, in truth, despised the Warmaster, and all of his dark doings. A shining ray of hope for him was young Brandesh, his favorite student, who had the wisdom in magic and discipline in combat to lead West Trairch out of the trouble it was in.
For in West Triarch, also called Costania, trouble was evident, Minor Earls warred for scraps while the nation’s true economy was beginning to crumble.
“Lack of discipline,” he thought, “And a lack of energy to deal with the reality that stood before them.”
He took out his pipe, and very slowly puffing, thought.
He couldn’t help but think of the girls.
Sarah was casting her magic fine, in fact all the girls were, but her body wasn’t free to work, she was attempting to master water magic without understanding air magic. The power of the white winds could heal any withered grass. Her true path was with the dire wolves, and against a skilled Towinian water magician she would be devoured. Winthrope knew of the East, yes, though few truly did, and he wasn’t pleased with the girls at all.
Brandesh started his day some Navory tobacco and vigorous push-ups, but was frustrated that his magic was no match for the Towinian casters. Where his record at Sealcrest would be high, here he had gone two and five in his magic duels, and he was beginning to think he had no idea what he was doing.
He walked to the magician’s corner, a stone-building where young callers went to hone their craft. He went and found his partner, Chu-sup, from the Eastern city of Fin-cheon, and soon they were in a trance-state, batteling between their minds.
A pack of grey dire wolves rallied to where young Brandesh had summoned them. His mind was far from Sealcrest’s dungeons.
“What do you fear, brother?” The strange Chu-sup said.
“Nothing,” Brandesh’s mind answered, as he sent his dire wolves to meet Chu-sup’s water wolves, and the two clashed in a titanic battle held within the mind, racing over green-grass, blue sky shining down, in an environment controlled to be whatever the callers wished. Chu-sup was the superior caller, by far, but was impressed when Brandesh took a few matches off him.
“What is it you seek?” Chu-sup asked.
“To be one with a female caller, he name is Sarah.”
“Be a man, Prince.” Was Chu-sup’s reply.
The wolves ran amok on the green lush, breezy field, tearing at each other with Chu-sup of course winning victorious. Chu then pulled Brandesh’s mind to his and Brandesh’s vision turned to black. He felt like a cat left in a dark closet as his eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness.
“Here you are safe, but you travel back to a land that is not welcoming to magicians,: Chu-sup said. Suddenly Brandesh felt a warm hand on his neck and knew by the gentle touch that it must be Chu’s. Suddenly two young Towinian girls danced in the now sunlit field, doing rollovers and cartwheels. “These are my nieces. Make this world safe for them, brother.” Was all Chu-sup said.
Princess Sarah sat chewing on a sweet-pastry locked away safely in her august room. She had just finished her evening bath and was sitting, fresh and lovely and clean in her night-gown awaiting Sir John Mellowford, who she had begun dating since Brandesh had ben thrown in the dungeon, though it was only by coincidence, she was Princess of Little Triarch, her father scary King Downbrow, and she would see whomever she deemed appropriate, and in truth she barely knew Brandesh existed as he was so quiet, and she knew he was off journeying with captain Lancass and the youthful Guy.
Mellowford was a young son of a rich merchant of Costania, and was quite excited to be dating the young Princess, his stupid smile could not be mistaken as he bragged to his friends and family about her ample bosom. The two had begun a relationship recently and everything was as it should be, as the Mellowfords ran a huge allotment of resources coming into Sealcrest, and they were a good match.
Sarah was complacent in her relationship, she had a friend for romance and was free to spend the rest of her time with spellcraft.
The door opened, and rather then Sir Mellowford, it was little Patriciae saying, “I’ve brought us some water pups to play with!”
“Where’s Sir Mellowford?” Sarah replied.
“Oh, he’s out at a wrestling fair in the country, I thought we could play.” Patriciae said, as her wolf pups ran, bouncing into the room.
Sarah stood a bit flummoxed, but laughed as a wolf pup nibbled at her feet.
As if wishing to chant, Sarah broke into a song they both knew.
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