Short Stories from Wing's Authors.

The Dark Dragon's Daughter

by

JoEllen Conger

At first light, the daughter of Grand King Warmeister, Keeper of Dragon’s Castle, the Grand Princess Alanora, Protectress of All the Realms, stood at attention beside her sire on the platform at the head of the arena. They were nearly invisible in their black shiny leather battle dress.

Torchlight flickered like lightening across the armor’s polished surface. She knew she cut an impressive figure. Her burnished steel ceremonial helmet was decorated with an array of fluttering red plumes. Her jacket fit snugly, crossed diagonally by a wide blood-red sash, embroidered with the Dark Dragon’s emblem. Her skin-tight breeches ended at the tops of her spotlessly polished, knee-high boots.

Their troops stood in silent ranks all around the arena. They awaited the coming of Prince Hawksbeak. The only movement was the guttering of the torches. In the silence before the dawn Alanora mused about the man to whom she had been betrothed. She had yet to meet him. Today…this morning…she would lose her freedom to this unknown man for the sake of their joined kingdoms.

One gloved hand stole absently to the hilt of her two-handed, long-sword. She drew a long ragged breath and attempted to still her nerves. “The Dragon’s hind end,” she swore under her breath. She would rather do battle than be presented to this mysterious consort.

She shifted, turning her head just enough to inspect her sire in the pre-dawn light. He cut a fine figure in his royal uniform. She swelled with pride and admired the massive display of medals crowding his chest. He was a noble warrior with many a battle to his credit. She could only hope that her betrothed was half the man. Her stomach somersaulted. Sweat beaded her forehead. Anxiety chewed at her. Alanora returned her attention to her sire to keep from thinking about this unknown Prince Hawksbeak.

Beneath the king’s ornate helmet, wisps of steel gray hair protruded at his temples. She flushed to realize that her father had grown older without her notice. One day soon, she realized, she would have to rule the kingdom without his sage advice. Of the family-line she was the only one remaining. She must be ready to take command.

Her heart fluttered. How could she carry on without his guiding hand? He had trained her to be the son he never had. When the time came, she knew she must meet the challenge. Regardless of her reluctance to meet the coming stranger, she had accepted her sire’s decree to wed him. This was what she’d been trained for all her life. When the time came she would become the ruling queen.

~ * ~

The combined footsteps of the prince’s army could be heard long before they came into view. Alanora turned her head to search the horizon. When she saw the symmetry of the first warriors who came into view with the rising sun at their backs, her heart leaped with joy. First came the forward guards in shiny armored mail, their horses stepping in unison, their matching leather trappings creaked in the otherwise silence of the apricot dawn. They were followed by banderoles who rode twelve abreast. The pikemen followed.

Then three troops of mounted trumpeters marched into the arena, their horses prancing. The lead group raised their six-foot horns and filled the crisp morning air with harmonious notes. Following them came the three-foot horns that burped low vibratory tones. When the third group began to voice their French horns, the air about them reverberated with a melodious whimsical march.

The pages followed on foot, trailed by the fife and drum corps. The small sharp toned snare drums battled with the huge kettledrums. The ceremonial march changed in tempo as they drew nearer, but she was unfamiliar with the tune they played.

The honor guard came abreast of the nobility, their heads snapped around in salute as they paraded in review. Although the grand princess had never met him she recognized Prince Hawksbeak of Hawksbeak Keep surrounded by his personal knights. He rode shamelessly attired all in white, without benefit of sword or dagger. His long flowing cape graced the haunches of his proud chestnut war stallion. His ornamental helmet and mask shrouded his face. The Dark Dragon’s blood-red sash seemed to dissect him in half.

Alanora ground her teeth. Her gloved hands flinched. A sudden wild commotion distracted her inspection of the prince. She looked past him to watch four warriors struggle with an enormous black stallion. It screamed and lunged against its restraining ropes and jerked the men from formation.

The prince reined in and leaped to the ground. In long strides he crossed the green to the base of the raised platform where she stood. He bowed before her, so low his ceremonial plumage brushed the ground at her feet. “Your Royal Highness,” he addressed her.

Alanora groaned in exasperation. How dare he bow so low? Didn’t he know it constituted insult? She wanted to jerk him upright.

“Be nice,” her father hissed.

The Grand Queen-in-Waiting, Alanora Warmeister forced a smile and nodded to acknowledge the prince’s presence. But when he lifted his helmet and his long blond curls cascaded to his shoulders, the warrior princess could no longer mask her disapproval.

“By the Dragons!” she swore. No warrior in battle would ever be caught dead with hair so long!

“Your Grand Highness,” he said, and bowed before the king.

Her sire gave no sign of recognition. It was difficult to hear the prince’s formal words of greeting while the stallion’s screams filled the air. Yet, when her father’s elbow bruised her ribcage she realized that Prince Hawksbeak had challenged her to sit the plunging animal.

“Ohhh,” she exclaimed, her heart instantly overcome by the war stallion’s primal beauty. How could she hate a man who paid her such tribute? A smile softened her solemn features. Honored, her eyes never left the rippling muscles beneath the horse’s black sheen. She ripped off her ceremonial helmet, dropped it to the turf and descended the three stone steps to the arena floor.

As she passed, the prince caught hold of her fingers and pressed his searing warm lips to her thin leather glove. She sensed his trimmed beard against her fingertips and her stomach lurched. Her breathing quickened. However, she chose to ignore his searching blue eyes and withdrew her hand, determined to disregard the prince’s quick kiss…and handsome smile. The beauty of the stallion had her full attention.

Several of Prince Hawksbeak’s liverymen appeared before her and knelt to present their master’s betrothal gifts. At a glance Alanora took in the intricate pattern crafted on the fighting saddle’s leather, with inlaid silver accenting the hand-tooled knights and dragons, the armored leg guards, the braided weapon’s straps, and the finely woven wool pad on the underside of the saddle.

Her eyes returned to the plunging steed. Alanora reached for the elaborate bridle, then stepped toward the stallion. The musicians, pikemen, and banderoles broke rank and scattered out of harms way. Their pendants momentarily created a chaotic array of color. The grand princess’ eyes never left the magnificent animal before her as she approached it. She signaled the riders to slacken the lines.

With a deep breath, Alanora centered her consciousness and called upon the Powers of the Compass Rose. She felt the energy surge up through her body from the earth’s cardinal points. She drew it in, feeling it tingle along her arms.

A breeze swirled across the planes and fanned Alanora’s sheared locks. Her cape fluttered. Making eye contact with the frenzied beast she began to chant. The stallion screamed, lunging against the ropes. The princess felt herself becoming “The Goddess.” She stepped forward, confident. The stallion reared and shook his head, his mane flying as she stepped even nearer.

Protected by her Powers, Alanora directed the energy that flooded her toward the agitated beast. The wild stallion whirled, heels flashing, yet the princess stood fast.

She continued to chant and a rising wind circled her and tugged at her cape. She held up the bridle for the horse to see and willed him to understand that she intended to master him. The horse faced her, pawing chunks from the turf. She stepped forward and gently placed her palm upon the warm velvety nose, and forced the beast to meet her gaze. The stallion snorted, jerking his head away.

Alanora caressed the animal’s lower lip and crooned as she slipped the bit carefully into his mouth. Cat-quick the bridle was fastened and she held the reins lightly. The stallion’s eyes rolled backward, exposing whites, his body quivered. Then, rearing above her, his metal-tipped hooves flashed savagely, cleaving the air. Still the princess-goddess refused to be intimidated.

Her gaze riveted upon the animal, she reached behind her fully expecting the saddle to be delivered to her. Her hand paused, extended in demand until she felt the saddle’s weight. She waited patiently until the livery returned to a safe distance before she approached the war stead’s shoulder. The princess laid a hand on his jerking flesh to quiet him. Her intonations became louder as she ran her hand down his side. She eased the saddle onto the animal’s glossy back. The stallion shuddered beneath her touch and skittered sideways.

When she finally ceased her chant and the Power of the Compass Rose returned to its original source, the saddle was in place, the girth strap tightened and the four restraint ropes removed. Gently she placed her foot in the stirrup and eased her weight into the saddle.

When the stallion screamed and bucked skyward she was ready. Her knees pinched his barrel-shaped body, the reins wrapped tightly around her right hand. The stallion stood momentarily splayed, just long enough that Alanora unclenched her tightened muscles. She took a deep breath; disappointed the animal had given up so easily.

Abruptly the stallion’s frantic screams pierced the air again, his recoil so brutal Alanora lost her seat. One foot jerked free of the stirrup. “NO!” she shouted, feeling herself twist out of the saddle. The knee guards were the only things that kept her from falling.

Without realizing it, the grand king shouted both encouragement and anxiety for her safety. But in shock, the prince bolted forward to deflect her fall. His face blanched. He jerked back just short of the flying hooves.

As the animal twisted beneath her, the princess clawed her way back into the saddle. She clenched her jaw, her teeth rattled with each lunge. The warrior in her fought to keep her seat. Each breath she drew was hammered from her lungs as the horse plunged and twisted, landing heavily, only to spring up again, kicking out with his powerful legs. Warriors broke formation and fled as the bucking threatened their positions. The slamming blows of the long-sword smarted with each impact.

What a dunce I was to have forgotten to remove it! She berated herself.

The black stallion jerked his head so savagely the princess glanced wildly down at her hand, relieved to see the reins had not cut through to her gloved palm. The pain shot up her arm to her shoulder.

“By the goddess,” she swore. “Don’t let me be bested now!” Her eyesight blurred. Her every thought came as a blinding red flash.

Princess Alanora clung tenaciously to the saddle, her pride would not let her admit defeat, nor allow her to resort to her magic to subdue the raging animal. To save face, she had to win by the force of her own willpower.

The pain became so exquisite she lost track of time. The only reality that existed was her continuous agony, her jolted insides, her lack of breath, and the heated searing of the sun on her black parade leathers. She thought surely she’d swoon before the battle was won.

Without warning the animal ceased his devil shriek, stood stiffly astraddle, blowing hard. Alanora gulped and hoped the worst was over. Every muscle screamed, but she remained tense while she waited for another barrage. When the animal did not renew its fight, the princess struggled with her unsteady hand, unable to make it pat the animal’s withers.

Alanora spoke softly coaxing the stallion to a gallop across the greens. Without conscious thought, a victory shout escaped her lips as the exhilaration of power surged through her veins like champagne. She drank in the tactile sensation of the wind rushing past her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled as she breathlessly reined to a stop in front of the anxious prince.

He gulped; relieved she hadn’t been hurt. He saluted her smartly, presenting her the ceremonial helmet she had tossed to the greens. “Well, do we pass muster?” he questioned. His sparkling blue eyes sought hers. She did not pull away this time as he kissed her palm, and then her fingertips. “We only bond with one master,” he added with a grin.

Grand Princess Alanora beamed down at her prince charming. “Is that so? Well as a matter of fact…you have won my heart,” she replied with a saucy flip of her head.

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