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I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites

Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 49: JOURNEY

                The travel to the southern lands had been, in several ways, different from what Malia had envisioned. The first surprise had been the twin’s contribution: horses. The two ancient demons had adamantly explained that the animals would only lend their aid in crossing the grasslands; wild horses had no interest in nearing human territories.
                Regardless, the unexpected allies had considerably shortened their expedition. Thanks to Hedera’s and Licorice’s mediation, their mounts had been exceedingly cooperative. Unlike her friends Malia was a decent bareback rider at best, and yet one whisper from Licorice made her mare the sweetest of creatures, understanding and patient as no horse Malia had ever ridden.
                The princess was helping Aldous set up their tent for the night, while Gorken prepared dinner, when Hedera’s laughter snatched her attention. As of late the demon rarely left Bayard’s side, often reacting to the human’s muttered comments with knowing smirks, flustered fits or childlike giggling. Malia couldn’t help glancing awkwardly at Aldous, now that she knew probably more than she should.
                “Don’t look at me like that.” Aldous chuckled, “The more he’s focusing on her, the less time he spends mocking me. If anything I’m grateful!”
                Malia smiled at the redhead as she sat down; she was about to complain of sore thighs when she remembered that Aldous had been riding for as long as she had, but one-armed. It was easy to forget his missing limb when he had become so adept at functioning just fine without it. “It’s incredible, you know,” she said, “how capable you are despite your loss. I was barely able to keep up with you guys.”
                “Thank you!” Aldous rejoiced at the honest praise, “I thought no one would mention it! I amaze even myself! Kadem’s training really was something else. I don’t know how she did it but… now I feel… almost whole again. It’s like my body knows how to do stuff.”
                “Hey, she didn’t do it.” Malia pressed her finger on Aldous’ chest, “You did it. It’s because of all the effort you put in. That’s why you looked terrible, remember?”
                “You seem awfully eager to take up Bayard’s mantle.”
                “It was a compliment!” she protested.
                “I know, I know. Loosen those eyebrows, princess, or you’ll get wrinkly before your time.”
                They parted with the horses the next day. Even though there was relief in walking on her own two feet, Malia missed her friendly mare more than she was willing to admit. Growing up she hadn’t had much of a chance to realize that she loved animals; now she knew she did.
                It didn’t take long for the chilly air to claim Malia’s mind. She was the first to take her cloak out of her bag, but her human friends followed soon after. They were lucky that by simple fortuity they were heading south during summer time, but Malia had a hard time accepting that any summer could bear such cold.
                Only Licorice and Hedera remained unperturbed. Ever since they had returned to their original forms, vines and leaves perpetually wrapped around their bodies had taken the place of clothing. At times, the plants seemed to be part of them, and at times they seemed to be guardian beings protecting them fiercely. Although it escaped Malia how weeds and roots could shield anyone from cool weather. Her nose had already gone red when she asked the twins, “Aren’t you cold?”
                “Not really.” Hedera shrugged, “We aren’t immune to cold per se, but you’d have to take us to the frozen lands for us to feel any negative effect.” She pinched Bayard’s cheek, “You humans wither too easily.”
                “Frozen lands?” Malia echoed incredulously, vocalizing the curious intrigue her friends had also experienced.
                “Ah, that’s right, this island doesn’t have any.” Hedera pointed to her left, “Beyond the sea and across the continent and then beyond the sea again, over there, you’ll find them. Icy white as far as the human eye can see.”
                “Wait just a moment.” Malia turned to the left, “Beyond the ocean there’s a continent? And beyond that, there’s another sea, and then lands made out of ice? Are you serious?”
                Licorice’s exasperation with her sister manifested in a tranquil sigh, “Ancient demons are entrusted by nature with innate information about the world, including what you’d call its general geology. Hedera should know as well as I do that we’re not meant to share that knowledge irresponsibly. Not everyone needs to know, and some should never know.”
                Malia was almost certain Licorice’s glare then and there was icier than any frigid lands, enough to stop Hedera’s divulging and to halt any follow-up questions from the rest of the party. Still, she was free to let her mind wander, unbound and unconfined, through the wondrous image of a world large enough for faraway realms to exist outside the limits of her awareness.
                The group spotted the southern citadel soon after that. Gorken, Aldous and Bayard had never been to Eirian territories before, so the lively town was almost as extraneous to them as the frozen lands they had imagined hours prior.
                Malia was shocked too: as they made their way through the settlement, past colorful houses and the noisy market, the scene was nothing like what she recalled from her previous visits. Here and there she would spot people with no will, walking aimlessly or mindlessly tending to their work, but much else overwhelmed the presence of those bound by the spell: children running around, the chattering of people, a fisherman feeding a stray cat by the river… Most of the village’s inhabitants were full of life. The small town could very well have gathered more ‘awakened’ humans than the rebellion itself, by the looks of it.
                Then it dawned on Malia why she had never seen the bright community: during her childhood she had come as a Daimonlance, escorted by angry soldiers, her family’s crest high on the banners, reminding all who had fled that they weren’t out of her clan’s reach. She couldn’t help picturing the children hiding in their huts, the market being dead silent, and the cat waiting for the fisherman on a day he would not come.
                Even the Eirian palace stood in stark contrast to the northern castle: there was no great stone wall around it, no impregnable rupture between its towers and the outside world. Climbing plants and flowers slithered their path across the southern fortification, the ramparts akin to their queen, as graceful as they were unyielding.
                Malia led the way to the palace’s outer door, deliberately standing in front of her companions. She had rehearsed different manners of addressing the guards inside her head, but before she could pick the most appropriate one, a broad knight advanced toward her. The tall man towered over her, and Malia was unusually intimidated by his pressuring presence, more than by any fallen demons or generals she had encountered in the past. She stood her ground and gazed upward into the warrior’s grey eyes.
                “Little Malia!” the imposing soldier removed his helmet. His face flaunted the contrast between aged scars and the wrinkles that adorn only those who have spent a lifetime smiling.
                It was a face Malia knew well, “…Old Edd!”
                To the pleasant astonishment of Malia’s friends, the old guard ruffled her hair affectionately, “It’s been too long, child. You have little Clarissa’s look now.”
                “You’re still the same.” Malia replied, “Weren’t you going to retire the last time I was here?”
                “Ah, I’ll retire this winter, I will. Old folks have to make sure the new boys are strong enough before we leave. They’re still too soft, you hear me? Too soft.”
                “You’ve been saying that since I joined the army, sir, six years ago.” Another guard spoke without leaving his post.
                “He’s been saying that since I became a soldier,” a third knight added, “twenty years ago.”
                “Twenty years, and still soft as a pillow.” Edd waved a dismissive hand, “How is Clarissa doing? You’ll be wanting to see your aunt, yes?”
                Malia’s smile faded, “I haven’t seen my mother in a while… but I do want to request an audience with Queen Frida.”
                “Of course! Little Frida must see you. Come, the waiting room is free right now.”
                “I’d like for my companions to come with me!” Malia had to raise her voice to stop Old Edd’s vigorous strides.
                “Mm, your friends?” the large man turned back, his heavy stare surveying them all. The humans were reminded of Kadem’s ability to invade their thoughts. But while Kadem did it without even thinking, sometimes actively avoiding intruding in their heads, Edd was purposely and carefully examining their minds, running his hand slowly through the pages of their consciousness. Finally, he announced, “They may enter with you, little Malia. But if you want to take them to Queen Frida, you’ll have to wait longer. Others must also read them. And you,” he pointed at Gorken, “you’ll leave your sword with Cattleya, our master blacksmith. I don’t want that thing anywhere near the Eirian children.”
                Gorken knew better than to defy the seasoned guard, so he handed the old man his sword.
                “Worry not, boy. I shall return it when you leave, intact. Cattleya will take good care of it.” With a nod Old Edd had the gates open, signaling the group to enter.
                “Thank you Old Edd.” Malia stood on her tip toes and kissed both of his cheeks, “It’s good to see you again.”
                “You too, little one.”
                As a group of inner guards escorted them to the waiting room, Malia confirmed why the cold had been such a menace during her childhood stays: Eirian architecture was one with nature, defined by open spaces and luscious gardens that delighted the eyes and embraced the frosty air. It was no wonder that, in a castle where trees grew amidst marble pillars, Malia’s favorite spot had been her aunt’s secured, cozy library. Aldous, Gorken and Bayard walked silently by her side, fascinated by the welcoming building. Even Hedera and Licorice seemed pleased by the view, at home between the greenery.
                They were served tea and strawberries to sweeten their wait; every once in a while a guard would enter, read their intentions as Old Edd had, and then retreat with a courteous nod. They had been examined several times when a woman in leather armor opened the door. Her hair was a deep shade of purple, just like Malia’s, and along with her grey eyes it marked her as a pure blooded Eirian. On her chest she wore the golden emblem of her clan. By then they all knew how to recognize a general.
                “Follow me.” She commanded, “Queen Frida will take a look at you.

Description

I'll be posting my story here as well!  If you're interested in it, please feel free to follow my other account: ManuWrites

Thank you if you take the time to read it!

Previous Chapter:
Next Chapter:

All Chapters HERE.

CHAPTER 49: JOURNEY

                The travel to the southern lands had been, in several ways, different from what Malia had envisioned. The first surprise had been the twin’s contribution: horses. The two ancient demons had adamantly explained that the animals would only lend their aid in crossing the grasslands; wild horses had no interest in nearing human territories.
                Regardless, the unexpected allies had considerably shortened their expedition. Thanks to Hedera’s and Licorice’s mediation, their mounts had been exceedingly cooperative. Unlike her friends Malia was a decent bareback rider at best, and yet one whisper from Licorice made her mare the sweetest of creatures, understanding and patient as no horse Malia had ever ridden.
                The princess was helping Aldous set up their tent for the night, while Gorken prepared dinner, when Hedera’s laughter snatched her attention. As of late the demon rarely left Bayard’s side, often reacting to the human’s muttered comments with knowing smirks, flustered fits or childlike giggling. Malia couldn’t help glancing awkwardly at Aldous, now that she knew probably more than she should.
                “Don’t look at me like that.” Aldous chuckled, “The more he’s focusing on her, the less time he spends mocking me. If anything I’m grateful!”
                Malia smiled at the redhead as she sat down; she was about to complain of sore thighs when she remembered that Aldous had been riding for as long as she had, but one-armed. It was easy to forget his missing limb when he had become so adept at functioning just fine without it. “It’s incredible, you know,” she said, “how capable you are despite your loss. I was barely able to keep up with you guys.”
                “Thank you!” Aldous rejoiced at the honest praise, “I thought no one would mention it! I amaze even myself! Kadem’s training really was something else. I don’t know how she did it but… now I feel… almost whole again. It’s like my body knows how to do stuff.”
                “Hey, she didn’t do it.” Malia pressed her finger on Aldous’ chest, “You did it. It’s because of all the effort you put in. That’s why you looked terrible, remember?”
                “You seem awfully eager to take up Bayard’s mantle.”
                “It was a compliment!” she protested.
                “I know, I know. Loosen those eyebrows, princess, or you’ll get wrinkly before your time.”
                They parted with the horses the next day. Even though there was relief in walking on her own two feet, Malia missed her friendly mare more than she was willing to admit. Growing up she hadn’t had much of a chance to realize that she loved animals; now she knew she did.
                It didn’t take long for the chilly air to claim Malia’s mind. She was the first to take her cloak out of her bag, but her human friends followed soon after. They were lucky that by simple fortuity they were heading south during summer time, but Malia had a hard time accepting that any summer could bear such cold.
                Only Licorice and Hedera remained unperturbed. Ever since they had returned to their original forms, vines and leaves perpetually wrapped around their bodies had taken the place of clothing. At times, the plants seemed to be part of them, and at times they seemed to be guardian beings protecting them fiercely. Although it escaped Malia how weeds and roots could shield anyone from cool weather. Her nose had already gone red when she asked the twins, “Aren’t you cold?”
                “Not really.” Hedera shrugged, “We aren’t immune to cold per se, but you’d have to take us to the frozen lands for us to feel any negative effect.” She pinched Bayard’s cheek, “You humans wither too easily.”
                “Frozen lands?” Malia echoed incredulously, vocalizing the curious intrigue her friends had also experienced.
                “Ah, that’s right, this island doesn’t have any.” Hedera pointed to her left, “Beyond the sea and across the continent and then beyond the sea again, over there, you’ll find them. Icy white as far as the human eye can see.”
                “Wait just a moment.” Malia turned to the left, “Beyond the ocean there’s a continent? And beyond that, there’s another sea, and then lands made out of ice? Are you serious?”
                Licorice’s exasperation with her sister manifested in a tranquil sigh, “Ancient demons are entrusted by nature with innate information about the world, including what you’d call its general geology. Hedera should know as well as I do that we’re not meant to share that knowledge irresponsibly. Not everyone needs to know, and some should never know.”
                Malia was almost certain Licorice’s glare then and there was icier than any frigid lands, enough to stop Hedera’s divulging and to halt any follow-up questions from the rest of the party. Still, she was free to let her mind wander, unbound and unconfined, through the wondrous image of a world large enough for faraway realms to exist outside the limits of her awareness.
                The group spotted the southern citadel soon after that. Gorken, Aldous and Bayard had never been to Eirian territories before, so the lively town was almost as extraneous to them as the frozen lands they had imagined hours prior.
                Malia was shocked too: as they made their way through the settlement, past colorful houses and the noisy market, the scene was nothing like what she recalled from her previous visits. Here and there she would spot people with no will, walking aimlessly or mindlessly tending to their work, but much else overwhelmed the presence of those bound by the spell: children running around, the chattering of people, a fisherman feeding a stray cat by the river… Most of the village’s inhabitants were full of life. The small town could very well have gathered more ‘awakened’ humans than the rebellion itself, by the looks of it.
                Then it dawned on Malia why she had never seen the bright community: during her childhood she had come as a Daimonlance, escorted by angry soldiers, her family’s crest high on the banners, reminding all who had fled that they weren’t out of her clan’s reach. She couldn’t help picturing the children hiding in their huts, the market being dead silent, and the cat waiting for the fisherman on a day he would not come.
                Even the Eirian palace stood in stark contrast to the northern castle: there was no great stone wall around it, no impregnable rupture between its towers and the outside world. Climbing plants and flowers slithered their path across the southern fortification, the ramparts akin to their queen, as graceful as they were unyielding.
                Malia led the way to the palace’s outer door, deliberately standing in front of her companions. She had rehearsed different manners of addressing the guards inside her head, but before she could pick the most appropriate one, a broad knight advanced toward her. The tall man towered over her, and Malia was unusually intimidated by his pressuring presence, more than by any fallen demons or generals she had encountered in the past. She stood her ground and gazed upward into the warrior’s grey eyes.
                “Little Malia!” the imposing soldier removed his helmet. His face flaunted the contrast between aged scars and the wrinkles that adorn only those who have spent a lifetime smiling.
                It was a face Malia knew well, “…Old Edd!”
                To the pleasant astonishment of Malia’s friends, the old guard ruffled her hair affectionately, “It’s been too long, child. You have little Clarissa’s look now.”
                “You’re still the same.” Malia replied, “Weren’t you going to retire the last time I was here?”
                “Ah, I’ll retire this winter, I will. Old folks have to make sure the new boys are strong enough before we leave. They’re still too soft, you hear me? Too soft.”
                “You’ve been saying that since I joined the army, sir, six years ago.” Another guard spoke without leaving his post.
                “He’s been saying that since I became a soldier,” a third knight added, “twenty years ago.”
                “Twenty years, and still soft as a pillow.” Edd waved a dismissive hand, “How is Clarissa doing? You’ll be wanting to see your aunt, yes?”
                Malia’s smile faded, “I haven’t seen my mother in a while… but I do want to request an audience with Queen Frida.”
                “Of course! Little Frida must see you. Come, the waiting room is free right now.”
                “I’d like for my companions to come with me!” Malia had to raise her voice to stop Old Edd’s vigorous strides.
                “Mm, your friends?” the large man turned back, his heavy stare surveying them all. The humans were reminded of Kadem’s ability to invade their thoughts. But while Kadem did it without even thinking, sometimes actively avoiding intruding in their heads, Edd was purposely and carefully examining their minds, running his hand slowly through the pages of their consciousness. Finally, he announced, “They may enter with you, little Malia. But if you want to take them to Queen Frida, you’ll have to wait longer. Others must also read them. And you,” he pointed at Gorken, “you’ll leave your sword with Cattleya, our master blacksmith. I don’t want that thing anywhere near the Eirian children.”
                Gorken knew better than to defy the seasoned guard, so he handed the old man his sword.
                “Worry not, boy. I shall return it when you leave, intact. Cattleya will take good care of it.” With a nod Old Edd had the gates open, signaling the group to enter.
                “Thank you Old Edd.” Malia stood on her tip toes and kissed both of his cheeks, “It’s good to see you again.”
                “You too, little one.”
                As a group of inner guards escorted them to the waiting room, Malia confirmed why the cold had been such a menace during her childhood stays: Eirian architecture was one with nature, defined by open spaces and luscious gardens that delighted the eyes and embraced the frosty air. It was no wonder that, in a castle where trees grew amidst marble pillars, Malia’s favorite spot had been her aunt’s secured, cozy library. Aldous, Gorken and Bayard walked silently by her side, fascinated by the welcoming building. Even Hedera and Licorice seemed pleased by the view, at home between the greenery.
                They were served tea and strawberries to sweeten their wait; every once in a while a guard would enter, read their intentions as Old Edd had, and then retreat with a courteous nod. They had been examined several times when a woman in leather armor opened the door. Her hair was a deep shade of purple, just like Malia’s, and along with her grey eyes it marked her as a pure blooded Eirian. On her chest she wore the golden emblem of her clan. By then they all knew how to recognize a general.
                “Follow me.” She commanded, “Queen Frida will take a look at you.