The Princess Witch

The Beast and the Witch. Written for the IronAge Prompt: The Pair.

The assassin’s blade sparked off Bryden’s sword. The Princess Royal was on her back, crumpled on the floor and pressed as close to the wall as she could get while their blades slashed above her. The assassin stumbled backwards and Bryden put himself firmly between them.

The assassin’s deep brown armour obscured him against the shadows as he prowled across the candlelit hallway, turning his body but never his eyes, which fixed on Bryden as a hawk would watch its prey. He stood his ground, sword poised before him and keeping the assassin at his front, leaving no avenue for attack that didn’t cross his blade.

The princess climbed to her feet and brushed the dust from her dark violet dress which was torn along its hem. She rested against a cabinet filled with royal heirlooms which rattled as she thrust her weight upon it, in the process, distracting Bryden who’s brief glance behind invited a strike from the assassin.

He dodged and brought his sword about, missing the assassin’s chest by inches as the man leapt backwards and lost his footing. Bryden seized his chance to strike and rushed forward with a hurried slash of his word which flew above the assassin’s head as he ducked and found the seam in Bryden’s armour with his blade. The knife tore a gash across the top of Bryden’s knee, the shock of which made him stagger into the wall. His amour slammed into the stone with a clash that rattled his ears, but with no time to think, he swiped again at the assassin forcing him backwards and buying himself space to gain his footing.

Then the sound of boots clapping on stone sounded down the hallway and running towards the two of them, trapping the assassin, came Allisandra with her sword drawn. The man twisted himself, unsure of whom to face, with a dagger poised at both sides and his gaze fritting between them.

“Bryden” the Princess Royal shouted from behind, but he dared not avert his gaze again. Nobody wished to move first and the three were locked in a stalemate. “Bryden” she shouted again.

“Stay behind me your highness” he shouted, as the assassin made a false lunge towards him, drawing Allisandra in for the attack, but she noticed the ruse and dashed aside, feeling a wisp of air against her cheek as the dagger slashed past her face.

“Bryden” the princess screamed again. This time he turned his head, which proved to be a mistake when from the corner of his eye he saw the assassin dart towards him. The distraction cost him his swiftness and the assassin ducked around his blade and grabbed his arm, heaving the mass of armour that was Bryden and toppling him towards the princess royal. He tripped over his own feet and collapsed into the cabinet which rocked and wobbled, hurling sharp trinkets down at the two of them.

Allisandra rushed in to help, but her loud boots betrayed her to the attacker who whipped towards her, dancing between her strikes and grappling her by the wrist. With a sharp twist, he wrenched the sword from her grasp, grabbed her by the collar and slammed her back to the wall, cracking her head against the stone. She collapsed in a daze at the edge of the hallway.

“Lyne” Allisandre screamed as her eyes came to rest on the princess royal. Bryden had only just regained his balance, when the scream made him turn about to see the princess standing beside the creaking, cracking cabinet as it leaned into the hallway and toppled towards her. He dropped his sword and grabbed her before the cabinet smashed onto the floor. In the flurry, both had fallen and landed on their backs.

The assassin needed no invitation. He dashed over the fallen cabinet and thrust his blade towards Bryden, but in his hurry, his aim faltered and missed Bryden’s neck. The blade pinged off of his shoulder plate, giving him chance to grab the assassin’s arm and climb to his feet, shoving the man away and grabbing his own sword. Allisandre did the same, but the assassin saw and kicked it from her grasp.

The distraction however, was enough to let Bryden raise his, and with a quick swipe he caught the assassins shoulder. He had however, committed too much to the blow and left himself defenceless as his sword clacked against the floor. The assassin raised his dagger and brought it down towards his head. Had Allisandra not been so swift, Bryden would have lost an eye, but she latched onto the assassin’s wrist with her hands and yanked him aside. Both of them tumbled into the wall, and the man swung his other blade towards her chest, stopping inches beside her ribs only as Bryden discarded his sword and grabbed his arm.

The two of them held the assassin, struggling against his strength as his eyes darted back and forth, caught between them with no way out. Bryden, with all his might, screamed in a fiery anger as he twisted the man’s arm the way it should not bend, forcing the dagger from his grasp and rending him from Allisandra. Bryden dragged him across the hallway and slammed him into the wall.

Allisandra rushed to the princess royal who was strewn across the floor, clutching a deep gash on her arm with blood dripping onto her dress.

Byden was grappling with the assassin, both of them pushing and shoving, spiralling from one side of the hallway to the other and slamming against the stone. They kicked and pulled at one another, each trying to wrest control of the fight until Bryden, with a fierce strength and the full weight of his armour, swung the assassin across the way and slammed his shoulder into the wall. The man screamed as it dislocated with a loud crack, then, without sparing a second, Bryden fell atop him. The sheer weight of his plate armour pinned the man to the floor, and Bryden in his fury, brought his fists to bear on the man’s face. The edges of his steel gauntlets lacerated the man’s cheeks as each strike ejected a fountain of blood and teeth into the air until, with a gargled wheeze, the man stopped moving.

Bryden sat where he was until his heart slowed down. He finally climbed to his feet, only to stagger when he placed his weight upon his stricken leg. The pain fired through his thigh until he came to rest against the wall.

“You’re hurt!” Allisandra said as she rushed to Bryden, blood seeping from the gash on his leg and dribbling down over his shin plate.

“I’ll be fine” he said in a short gasp of air. He took her arm in his grip and met her sapphire eyes with his own stern gaze. “The king is in the throne room” he said as he attempted to walk and his face skewed with pain. “Take your sister, bar the door. Go”. Allisandra hesitated but saw the sense in his orders. She retrieved her sword from among the shattered glass, silver heirlooms and splintered wood. She took the hilt of Bryden’s sword and scraped it across the floor, placing it gently in his hand. He leaned on it to ease the weight upon his leg then Allisandra took her sisters hand and the two of them ran until they vanished around the corner.

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Bryden limped until he heard the sound of steel clashing in the cavernous entry hall of the palace. He rushed through the marble doorway and stood atop a flight of steps which fanned out, down to into the room below. Beneath him was a scene of chaos, with guardsmen sparring against mercenaries among the statues and ornaments.

In the middle of the crowd, Lord Harron was slashing at the attackers, hurling his blade at them with a force that shattered chainmail, rent limbs from bodies and struck a fear into the enemies so fierce that many danced around him, but few dared lunge into his reach.

Bryden rushed down and slashed a man across his back, alerting the others who instantly saw easier prey and directed themselves towards him. His armour held true and the clumsy swing of the ill trained swordsmen sparked off the steel plates, all the while his true and tempered aim found the flesh between their mail and struck them down, one by one.

 The crowd was thinning and the guard were taking the advantage. By now, fighting was treacherous atop the marble floor which was littered with dead and slick with blood.

Bryden came face to face with a ferocious bearded man who missing an eye and had a small axe in each hand. He was wearing little more than rags when he charged Bryden, an easy dispatch any other day, but when he swung about his heavy blade his foot hit a streak of blood and slipped from under him. He smashed onto the floor and his sword landed beyond his reach while the man charged towards him.

Lord Harron’s blade swept above him and ploughed into the man’s belly, which doused Bryden in a flurry of blood before Harron pulled him yo his feet.

Bryden’s eyes met his stern gaze and a word touched his tongue, but before the first wisp of breath could leave his throat a commotion erupted by the large iron door at the end of the room.

A horde of mercenaries barged in, taking the guards by surprise. The few guards who noticed in time were cut down by a hail of swords. The mercenaries tore through the room until the Lord Harron, Bryden and a dozen of the guard were backed onto the steps.

Suddenly, one of the guard shouted over the chaos, but neither Bryden nor the Lord knew what he said. Seconds later, a bolt flew over the horde and pierced Lord Harron’s shoulder. At the back of the room, a handful of the mercenaries where perched on the shoulders of others with crossbows, firing over the heads of their own. Bryden dodged a bolt in time to avoid breathing through his neck.

Their aim was clumsy and several of their own collapsed with a bolt to the back of the head and the chaos bought the guard some reprieve. Harron shouted for them to fall back. The men hurried up the steps, hacking at the mercenaries who followed until they made it through the door at the rear of the room. Bryden backed through with a final swing of his blade, cutting down two men at once before the heavy wooden doors slammed shut before him and the guard sealed the entrance with a wooden beam that took five of them to lift.

The door rattled as the mercenaries sought to get through. When the racket outside began to quiet, Bryden feared they were searching for a way around.

Lord Harron dropped his sword and fell against the far wall, with a couple of guardsmen rushing to help, much to his displeasure as he grunted and shoved them aside. Then the Lords eye’s found Bryden.

“My Lord” he said with a shallow bow. “We should retreat into the palace and hold our ground past the inner court”. The Lord’s breathing was heavy as he wobbled onto his feet. He clenched his jaw, and closed his eyes before roaring at the top of his lungs, swinging about and smashing his fist against the wall. He cracked the stone, and few plates detached from his gauntlets. Then the Lords eyes searched the room before he glared at Bryden.

“Bryden… where’s the Princess Royal?”.

“The throne room my Lord, with the King” the Lord seemed to relax.

“Good” he said “it’s the safest place until we sort out this mess. Are there any guards with them?”.

“I don’t know my Lord” Harron laid a hand on Bryden’s shoulder and stepped past him. “But Princess Allisandra is with them” he finished.

The Lord whipped around and glared at Bryden.

“The damned witch”, he scorned as his face turned red. He backed Bryden against the wall. “You left the damned witch with the King”. The Lord turned to the men and ordered them to the throne room, but before anyone could move a sudden sound caught their attention and all eyes turned to the silhouette of a guard against a distant window and his sword clattering onto the ground. Then, the singular silhouette became two, when his body dropped, leaving behind a dark figure poised in the shadows with a dagger in his hand and two violet eyes that seemed to glow against the darkness.

They all turned to face him as Harron drew his sword and barged to the front, but undeterred by their numbers, the man began marching towards them.

“Surrender, you’re outnumbered” the Lord barked. The man was paid no heed and picked up his pace.

“Surrender you bloody fool” the Lord said before the man burst into a sprint. The Lord shouted and his men who rushed forward. The man proceeded to cut them down, twisting and ducking between their swords which never came close to touching him. The Lord charged the man and his blade clashed against the daggers, but the attacker was quick to kick the Lord and he stumbled backwards until Bryden caught him.

He glared at Bryden through the corner of his eye, and the remining guard formed a circle around the man, trapping him in the middle of the corridor.

“The throne room, now” the Lord whispered as he wiped a drop of blood from his face. Bryden’s attention snapped to the Lord when he barked his name “The throne room, keep the witch there”. The man lunged quite suddenly and the Lord swung his sword to force him back. “GO” he shouted at Bryden, who saw the the fury in his eyes bolted down the corridor.

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He barged into the throne room, realising the doors were unbarred and feeling a chill press against his face. The chandeliers which lit the room were half in darkness and two were smashed on the far side. Behind the throne, was a row of tall stained glass windows, one of which was shattered and letting the cold night wind gust into the room.

He heard what seemed to be a girl crying, and then as his eyes adjusted to the light, he noticed Allisandra’s white cloak at the edge of the shadows. He approached and saw a body lying behind her, with a crown resting on the floor beside them. He looked about for the Princess Royal then crept closer.

Allisandre leapt to her feet and pressed her blade to Bryden’s throat. It drew blood, but she recoiled the second she saw his face. She didn’t however, lower the blade.

The sound of boots thundered towards from the corridor outside and Alissandra moved away from the kings body, keeping her sword trained at Bryden.

“Allisandra” he whispered as she looked down the corridor then turned back to him, wiping tears from her cheek. “What happened here? where’s the princess Royal?” he shouted as her watch darted between him and the door. “Sheath your sword Allisandra. Explain this”. She whispered something he couldn’t make out as her eyes widened, then Bryden grabbed the hilt of his sword. “Allisandra” she looked at him and noticed. “Don’t make me arrest you princess” he said with sternest way he could.

A frown stretched across her face, and her eyes began to well with tears. She was distracted momentarily by the Lord shouting from down the corridor.Then Bryden pulled his sword and clashed it to hers. She swung back, but her clumsy stance caused her to stumble and he batted the blade with enough force to knock it from her hand.

“I’m being set up” she said as he held the blade towards her face. “I’m being set up” she said, “They’ll say I murdered the king”. Bryden glanced at the king lying in a pool of his own blood.

“Nonsense, who’s setting you up?”, she shook her head and backed away.

“It won’t matter. He won’t believe me”

“Lord Harron?” He quipped. “No Allisandra, the Lord will hear you”,

“No” she snapped “I grew up with that bastard, he’ll hang me before he listens”.

“Allisandra. He’ll listen you’re heir to throne”

“No” she barked at Bryden.

“Yes, Allisandra he will”,

“No, I’m not… I’m not heir. He won’t listen” Bryden lowered his sword, and found himself lost for what to say, but it mattered not.

Moments later the Lord hurried into the room with a handful of the guard behind him. He saw Bryden facing off with Allisandra, then caught sight of the king. Bryden thought to plead, but he didn’t get chance before the Lord drew his sword.

“The witch murdered the king. Arrest her” the Lord barked. The guard rushed forward and before Bryden could plead with either of them for patience, she twisted a flurry of fire around herself and the heat forced her back.

The guard kept their distance while they hurried to encircle her. Meanwhile the lord marched as close as he could before the heat became too much.

“Allisandra” Bryden shouted in the hope that she would calm down. He kept moving away as the heat grew fiercer, but he saw her gasping for breath between the flames, and before long she grew too tired to keep the spell alive.

No sooner did the flames flicker away, the Lord shouted for the guard to seize her and all of them rushed forward in together. As Allisandra looked about in panic, her menacing gaze gave out to the frightened girl hiding beneath, and when they neared, she whipped a stream of fire between her hands and cast it at her feet.

A blast of smoke fanned out from around her and knocked the men onto the their backs. Plumes of black smoke surrounded her and rose into column that stretched up into the vaulted ceiling. The thick cloud spread outwards and a thinner smoke permeated the air, scratching at their throats and making them cough.

“We’ll have none of your tricks witch” the Lord shouted, but as the smoke swirled around them, neither Bryden, the Lord nor the men could see where the princess had gone.

Bryden could see one of the guard through the smoke, who was looking about frantically with his sword in hand and jumping at every faint noise.

The Lord stood ready to fight and then Bryden, unsettled by the darkness and the torrid smoke stinging his eyes, raised his sword as well.

Suddenly, the room shook, then through the smoke a shadow stirred in front of them. It caused the cloud to shift and swirl above them as the shapeless mass stirred behind it. Then the mass began to grow, rising up above until it loomed over the guard, as tall as ten men.

The edge of its silhouette began to glow and flakes of smouldering embers drifted down and settled on the ground around them. A sudden wisp of fire burst from the mass and rose to the ceiling, lighting the room briefly and blinding them enough to ruin their vision. Now the room felt darker, and the mass which had once moved behind the smoke was cloaked by it.

Nobody moved, not even the fierce Lord himself who’s arms had begun to tremble. Then something growled from behind the smoke, and the cloud shifted around them. Bryden looked where he’d last seen the mass, and suddenly, piercing through the gloom, was a warm glow. It grew more intense as Bryden felt the urge to back away. Then, a beast emerged from the dense cloud, with blackened scales and fiery eyes. Its jagged white teeth dripped as its lips quivered with a snarl. Then Bryden saw the warm glow at the back of its throat, and as the beast reared up, the glow turned to fire.

“MOVE!” the lord screamed, and no sooner had Bryden jumped to the side a column of fire slammed into the ground behind him and torched one of the men. He flailed his arms and screamed until he dashed into the smoke and Bryden lost sight of him.

He lost sight of the beast as well, until a plume of flames lit up the opposite side of the room and he saw the jagged spikes along its back, the horns on its head, and its sharp tail whipping about in the smoke.

 As men screamed in pain from across the room, the Lord was barking orders from somewhere in the darkness. Then Bryden heard steel clash against steel from somewhere at his side, and made his way towards it, coughing as the smoke scratched his lungs and straining to see through watering eyes.

Then he spotted the golden armour of a guard glinting in the darkness, before the sound of steel cutting through flesh gave way to blood pouring onto the marble floor. Bryden wasted no time, raised his sword and brought it down on the attacker.

It clacked against their blade and he saw Allisandra staring back at him, seemingly unaffected by the smoke.

“I don’t want to hurt to you Princess” he shouted, as she shook her head and her face seemed to harden. Then she swept his sword aside and lashed at him. He parried the blow but she struck again and the two once more locked blades. “Allisandra please. These men did nothing wrong. Stop this madness” Her eyes began to well with tears and one escaped, trailing down her cheek.

“I’m sorry” she mumbled, as she began to cry and pushed back against Bryden’s sword.

“Stop this. I’ll plead with the Lord, he’ll listen to me”, she shook her head, then caught him by surprise when she kicked the wound above his knee and buckled his leg, collapsing him to the floor.

“Wait!” He shouted as she darted into the haze. He weathered the pain and bolted after her, until she leapt into the air and vanished through the broken window. He slammed into the wall and stared down at the city below. The streets weaved into the distance with lights, little bigger than a pin pricks, littering the houses and the roads.

He spotted her, tumbling down beside the rockface which held the palace aloft, then the air rushed past him and out into the night. It pulled the smoke with it until he was engulfed in the torrid black fog which made his head spin and almost choked him unconscious. The smoke formed into a tick cloud around Allisandra, then a dragon swept from beneath her, thrashed its wings and climbed into the night sky with Allisandra on its back. The Lord ran to his side, and both could only watch as the beast, and the witch, sailed into the night.

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