Flights of Fantasy - The Pub Fantasy Smackdowns

Hall of Souls - Part 1

Screams of pain filled the room as the doors to the royal bedchamber burst open. There was a shout from outside, a thud, and the soldier guarding the princess flew backwards across the marble tiles as the Dragonrider stalked into the room. The woman screamed again, clutching at the sheets and writhing in pain, and he blanched, the anger on his face changing to concern as the nurses ministered to their charge.

“My prince, you cannot be here.” The silken tones of the court magician whispered into his ear and he whirled to confront the robed figure.

“Cannot? I think you forget who you’re addressing Aktar.”

There was a flash of anger in the magician’s pale eyes, quickly quelled, and the man bowed his head in acquiescence. “My apologies, my Prince. I meant no disrespect. Your sister is having complications and all you can do at present is give us space to work.”

Jace glanced at his sister. “What is happening Aktar? I’m no midwife, but even I can see something isn’t right here.”

“We’re doing what we can Prince Jace, but if you must stay, please take a seat out of the way.”

Jace allowed himself to be steered to an embroidered armchair where he could see his sister’s face, and watched as Aktar laid a hand on her sweating brow. Her face relaxed, her eyes closed and she slumped back into the cushions. Aktar spoke, his eyes on the princess, one hand coming to rest on her swollen stomach. “She will rest a while now.”

~

Jace woke to find one of the many ghosts who walked the halls standing in front of him in the lowering light of early evening. The dead woman's mouth moved silently and she pointed at him and then the sleeping princess. An orange ray of sunlight heavy with dust motes burnished the face of his still comatose sister and he stood, walking over to place a hand on her brow as the ghost faded through the wall. The door to the chamber opened and Aktar walked in to rest an hand on her forehead.

“She is well?”

Aktar sighed. “No, Prince Jace. She is not. I am keeping her sedated for now using my arts, but she will wake and the screaming will start again.” He paused, weighing his words and Jace waited, a question plain on his face. “The baby’s soul is lost,” Aktar noted softly. “He is trapped in the Lands of Night and Shadow.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“You cannot, my Prince. Your brother would never forgive me.”

“While King Tarryl is away, I am in charge Aktar, and if there is something I can do to save my nephew’s life, then I will do it, no matter what the risk. I may be a Prince, but I am also a brother and a Dragonrider. What needs to be done?”

“Very well, Prince Jace. But it will be perilous.”

Jace straightened and turned to face the Magician. “What needs to be done?”

~

Castor blew a huff of warm air at him as he pulled tight the straps of the saddle. The dragon was in subdued mood, echoing the demeanour of his rider.

“Don’t worry Cas, we’ll be ok. I’m just worried about Alandra, the baby is all she has left of Eskobar after the accident.” He pulled the final buckle tight and put an arm around his mount’s neck. “I’ll be back in a moment, there’s something I need to do before we go.”

Jace strode away from his dragon and through the halls of Castle Kalbrennan. Painted eyes of ancestors gazed down at him from the walls as he walked purposefully toward the chambers of his sister, an occasional family ghost walking the same well trodden paths. At the door, a guard saluted in acknowledgement and let him in.

One of his sister's ladies in waiting sat watching Alandra, a fan open on her lap, and he nodded a greeting and bent down to kiss his sister’s brow. “Don’t worry Ali, I’ll find him.” He glanced over at his sister’s companion. “Look after her, my lady Felice.”

“Always, Prince Jace. She is my friend as well.” The girl paused. “Prince Jace, may I speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“I do not trust Magician Aktar. I think there is more going on here than meets the eye. There is a ghost who particularly concerns herself with your sister and who never wishes to be present when Aktar is here.”

Jace nodded. "The ghost of the lady dressed as a midwife? Aye, I've seen her too. I see my sister continues to surround herself with intelligent companions. You can take your finger off the crossbow trigger now too if you like.”

Felice smiled and withdrew a small crossbow from under the fan. "My apologies Prince Jace, one cannot be too careful."

“You’re absolutely right to worry, my lady. I share your concerns. If things start to get out of hand you must seek out my brother, King Tarryl. He journeys to the lands of the Virilyn, to the east.” Jace handed over a small pouch of money. “If the worst comes to pass and I do not return, please seek him out. One of the other ladies must look after my sister.”

Felice nodded. “I will not fail you, my Prince.”

“Thank you." He smiled at her, bowed and went back to Castor.

~

Jace grinned as cold air streamed past him. Castor banked towards the icy peak of the Demon Drop at a nudge from his rider's knee and a few seconds later the leathery slapping of his wings ceased as the grey and red dragon perched on a rocky outcrop. Snow wreathed the mountains and Jace's breath plumed in the thin air. He wore the heavy red and black robes of the King's own Dragonriders, and the hereditary weapons of the oldest Prince of the realm - the Swords of Night and Day - were strapped to his hips.

He leant over and patted the neck of the dragon. "Are you ready old friend?" The dragon turned his head, and eyes older than glaciers looked at him for a moment, considering. "You're the only one who can do this Castor. Akbar said we have to find the boy's soul. Ready?"

The dragon harrumphed, and smoke trickled from his nostrils.

"I'll take that as a yes." Jace looked down to the right where the abyss of the Demon Drop lay in shadow. "Let's go old son, the quicker we get started, the quicker I can get home and skin that bastard magician."

Castor tipped forwards and plummeted downwards, Jace crouched low over his neck. As the darkness enclosed them, he felt the dragon take a massive breath and fire erupted from his mouth. Heat washed over Castor's shoulders flames licking along his neck as they continued their dark descent, walls of stone and ice flashing by. The flame focussed as the dragon employed its inherent magic to form a hemispherical shield in front of them, and a multihued wash of colours gave way to darkness.

~ End of Part 1 ~