SciFi and Fantasy Stories: On Dragons' Wings Part 01

The full moon glared down onto the cobblestones and whitewashed walls of Poorside, giving them a silvery shine. It was near four in the morning and even the slums of Karran seemed almost magical.

The peaceful quiet that occurred between the time the taverns closed and the shops opened was suddenly ripped in half as a scream pierced the night. A few people stirred in their beds, one or two children awoke only to be reassured by their parents and fall right back to sleep. The drunks in the gutters didn’t move a hair.

A second scream.

Deep in the heart of Poorside, up to the second story of the bakery, a few people were huddled around a door. One of them stood out among the others: though he was covered by a cloak, underneath it, his clothes were fine, tailored to fit and his hair closely cropped and clean. The man who owned the bakery stood next to this man, looking nervous and continuously ran his hand through his thin, graying hair. “Milord…sh-should the child survive…well, Poorside is a horrible place for a babe-”

“I came hear merely out of courtesy, I’m not even certain that the child is mine,” the noble interrupted shortly.

“I can assure you, it is,” the man said emphatically. “My daughter-”

“Is a whore, sir, any child of hers could possibly belong to you as well as me,” he said darkly.

The baker clenched his jaw at the harshness of the words but said nothing. If he could play his cards right, the lord would take the child with him. Surely he wouldn’t have come so far back into the heart of the Territories if he didn’t believe that the child was his…

One final scream that died away in an agonized moan. A smaller, more feeble wail began. It was several more minutes before the door opened and the baker’s wife stood with a small bundle in her arms, her face red and wet from tears. “Kara…she…she didn’t…” she said, her voice raw from grief at the loss of her daughter. She was able to screw up a small, tortured smile and offered the bundle of blankets towards the noble. “Milord Rotandar, you have a son,” she said.

He narrowed his eyes and took a step back. “The girl died then? I’ll send money for a proper funeral,” he said and started for the stairs.

“But, milord, what of the child?” the husband asked.

“Do what you will with it.” Jack Rotandar, Lord and King of Hillsway, left the bakery without a glance behind.

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Child birthing was also taking place somewhere else that night. In the castle at the heart of Karran, the queen herself had given birth to her first child. Queen Rosalina Lockhart lay in the massive bed, nursing her tiny daughter in the dark of the royal chamber. Her husband, the King Gideon had yet to even see the child and was already celebrating with his friends and other nobles. She didn’t care though, she preferred the silence to the raucous laughter the arrival of her husband would bring.

The door opened and light from the corridor spilled into the gentle darkness. “Milady,” the familiar deep, quiet voice made Rosalina smile.

“Raz, come see her,” the queen said, motioning the man into the room. “She’s absolutely gorgeous.”

The man slipped into the room, closing the door behind him. His silhouette moved slowly through the chamber and she saw his hand come up, waving slowly. A lamp on the bedside table sprang to life, casting a gentle glow over the young mother and her babe. It also brought the man into sharper focus, his black hair touched with premature gray at the temples and his sharp silver eyes that seemed to see everything at once. He had obviously come from the celebrations with the king, he wore his official wizard’s robes in the Lockhart colors of blue and silver and the smell of smoke and brandy reached Rosalina before he did.

Well aware of his present state, he stopped several feet away and removed the robe and undershirt, setting them over the chair. His tall broad frame was crisscrossed with scars only Rosalina had ever seen. She tensed when he stripped. “Raz…what if-”

“Hush,” he said, crawling next to her, laying so the baby was between them. “The kegs are deep and women and friends are plentiful. Gideon won’t be up to you tonight. He even insisted that I come check on you since I know more about women after childbirth.” He smiled at her, running the back of his hand down her cheek. “Is there anything I can get you to soothe the aftereffects of labor?”

She rubbed her face in his palm. “Your mere presence helps better than any concoction for pain.”

He brushed her red hair back from her face and his hand moved down, moving back the dressing gown so he could see the babe nursing. The baby was half asleep, relying on instinct to get her nourishment. “So much hair on a child,” he chuckled, gently touching the soft, downy black hair that covered the girl’s head.

“I had hoped she would look more like me,” Rosalina admitted sheepishly. She gnawed her lip and then her fears spilled out in a rush. “Raz, what if Gideon realizes something isn’t right, what if he finds out?”

“Sh,” Raz soothed, kissing the young queen’s forehead. “Not even we know anything for certain yet. Gideon trusts me, I’ll do the traditional tests and he’ll believe what I tell him. Besides, the king and I could be brothers in appearance, it would be too hard to tell. He has no reason to suspect me.”

Rosalina was still uncertain. “It’s when one’s certain they won’t get caught that they do.” She looked up at him, pain clear in her eyes.

Raz looked down, his jaw clenched. He knew it would come to this, knew his young love was very intelligent for her age and scolded himself that he couldn’t suggest this earlier, for making her do it. He nodded. “I understand.” He tilted her head up, looking into her soft blue eyes. “Though I’ll be unable to show it, I’ll always love you, Rosalina.”

A few tears trailed down her face. “And I’ll love you, Raz,” she said, wrapping her arm around his neck.

He pulled back a bit and kissed her slowly, sweetly…the way he’d first kissed her that had made her melt. “I’ll leave you with your child now, milady,” he said, pulling back.

He dressed and bowed formally to her. “Should you require anything of me, you need only to ask.”

With that, he left and closed the door behind him.

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Several hundred miles away, a small boy snuck into a cave in a country called Trentar. From deep inside he could hear the sound of a man’s voice talking in soothing tones.

The boy’s name was Raphael Conway, the man was simply called Tak. Amidst the talking, Raphael could hear a grunt and a snort, sometimes a low rumbling growl. Raph’s heart leapt. He couldn’t believe he was really doing this.

It had taken much time sneaking around the Dragon Tamers to find out when this moment would occur, they were a quiet sort and kept to themselves, ignoring even their land-counterparts, the knights.

Tak was the only man in the Territories to successfully Impress a gold dragon, so rare and fickle that particular lizard was. The Dragon Tamers of Trentar had continually begged him to join their unit with his gold but he refused, living instead as a recluse in the highest mountain of the Zashan range that bordered Trentar.

Still, he occasionally helped when the need was great or he felt that himself or his dragon were threatened. He also allowed budding Tamers to have a shot at Impressing his dragon’s eggs whenever she gave birth, an event that only happened every fifteen years or so.

She was giving birth now, the gold. Raph could hear the wet sound and the solid thunk as the eggs fell into the soft bed of mud and grass she’d been preparing for the better part of the year. He peered around the edge of the cave, his eyes wide as he watched. A fire in the center of the cave kept everything warm and cozy and lit the very darkest corners.

Tak’s voice suddenly stopped its soothing muttering and turned sharp, his dark brown eyes glaring at Raph’s hiding spot. “Better to come help than just stand there spying, boy.”

Raph jumped but couldn’t move. His heart leapt into his throat and pounded so heard he feared it would leap out.

“Well?” Tak barked as the gold shuddered, laid one final egg and slowly slumped to the ground, seemingly exhausted. Tak raked his fingers through thinning blond hair and saw that Raph was still standing in the same spot. “Go to that corner and lay some fresh grass over the eggs, they need to stay warm until she gets her strength back.”

Unable to feel his legs much, he did the best he could, stumbling to the high mound of heavy grasses that were already warm from slight rot. He grabbed armfuls and heaped them over the two dozen or so eggs, spreading the grass out evenly over them. When he was done, he stood uncertainly to the side, his spine ramrod straight and his arms stiff at his side like he’d seen the knights and Dragon Tamers do.

“Relax, boy, you’re not in the military yet,” Tak said, rolling his eyes. “How old are you?”

“Seven, sir!” Raph chirped, adding a sharp bow that almost sent him tumbling forward in his zeal.

“And what are you doing up here?” the older man asked, sitting against the rock wall of the cave. The gold’s reptilian head slid over to him and rested in his lap.

“I-I heard your dragon friend was giving birth, sir! I wanted to be first at a chance to Impress one of her eggs, sir!”

“Gods, boy, I won’t tell you again that you’re not in the military, talk normal,” Tak sighed, irritation plain in his voice.

“I will be though, sir,” Raph said quickly. “As soon as I Impress a dragon, I’ll be the best of all of them!”

Tak looked at him evenly then suddenly burst out laughing. “Is that right? Will you eventually be king then too?”

Raph scowled. “No, sir. Kings sit and talk while others fight and die. I won’t let others fight my battles because I’m too afraid to do so.”

Tak looked at the dragon. “Smart lad, isn’t he? I like him, what do you think?”

The dragon snorted a little and her long tail suddenly came to life, slithering up to the buried nest of eggs. It dipped inside, moving around and suddenly emerged, rolling one of the large boulder-like eggs down the mound, stopping it in front of Raph. Raph’s eyes widened to almost comical proportions.

“It’s a buck,” Tak said with a grin. “A blue, so use a firm hand but take care of him.”

“A blue?” Raph squeaked. Being only seven, he’d wagered on Impressing a brown or black, a green at the most. But blues were the most selective next to the Metallics and he’d never in his life heard of one accepting a Tamer so young.

“That’s right. Now hurry, take him back to your cubbyhole and keep him warm. The better you take care of him while he’s still in the egg, the bigger and stronger he’ll be when he grows,” Tak assured.

“Yessir, thank you sir, thank you Ms- erm, dragon, ma’am, um, thank you! Thank you so much!” he said, picking up the egg and bowing as he backed out of the cave.

He tucked the egg under his shirt as he rushed back to the stables and the small cabin that he shared with five other stable boys. He slept cold that night, cuddled up against the bundle of blankets he heaped on the egg to keep it warm. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of flying over the Zashan range on his enormous blue dragon.


Chapter 01

Katherine was awakened by a soft knock on her door. "Come in," she grunted as she stretched.

The door opened and her maid entered, carrying a bundle of clothes. "Your father asked you to break your fast in the hall this morning, milady," Millie said, gently setting the clothes on the chair.

Katherine grimaced, pushing the blankets back. "Who are we entertaining today?"

"The Lord and Lady of Westbrook. Your father wishes to make a more solid of an alliance, what with the coming war with Tinderdon-"

Katherine cut her off with a wave of her hand. "I despise politics, Millie, you know that."

"Forgive me, ma'am." She held up the largest piece of clothing she'd brought, a scarlet dress with silver lining. "You mother requested that you wear this today."

Katherine scowled. It wasn't that she didn't like the dress, it was her favorite. But she loathed what it symbolized; her parents always had her wear it when they wanted her to look her best, lately to impress important men who, in her father's eyes, would make good husbands. The fabric contrasted perfectly with her long black hair and slightly sun kissed complexion. It fell to the floor and the sleeves hugged her arms down to her elbows before flaring out, effectively hiding the developed and well-toned muscles in her arms and legs. Her father disliked her curious nature, especially when it came to exploring the thick tangle of forest on the palace grounds or watching the knights and Wing Riders train and work out. The former and an attempt to duplicate what she saw during the latter had led to a layer of muscle her mother had said was "unbecoming on such a finely bred lady."

But the dress made her look like the princess her parents wanted her to be. And in that sense, she hated it.

She changed from her nightgown into a slip and Millie helped her with the red dress. Katherine sat, passively looking at her reflection in the vanity mirror while Millie fixed her hair and jewelry. The top half of her long black hair was pulled back and braided with a few strands of ribbon. The thin, silver coronet dangled a ruby bauble between and just above her liquid silver eyes. Silver hoops were fixed in her ears and a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a dragon hung low enough to rest on the bodice of the moderately low-cut dress. Millie gave her some bangles to put on while she dusted Katherine's eyelids with a silvery sheen and painted her lips a slightly more daring red than they already were. Katherine barely needed any paint at all, her complexion was virtually flawless.

Last, Katherine put on the soft, doe hide slippers, gazing longingly at the well-worn leather knee boots in the bottom of her wardrobe. Millie led her down to the dining hall and bowed her exit, closing the door behind her. "Ah, Katherine, please sit down. I'd like to introduce Lord Borris Martin, Lady Martin and their son Maxwell," Katherine’s father, Gideon Lockhart introduced.

Katherine curtsied politely, noticing with hidden distaste that her father had situated the guests so she would be sitting next to Maxwell. He was roughly her age with thin blonde hair, watery blue eyes and roundness to his frame she found unappealing. She'd taken a liking to the hard, lean bodies of the knights and Riders of late. She took her seat and thanked the maid who brought her a plate.

A few minutes later, the door opened again and Katherine's younger sister Rachelle glided in. Where the elder was by no means unattractive, the younger was stunning, the spitting image of their mother. Her bright red hair fell in tousled waves and her skin was milky, never having been touched by the sun without a veil. Her sky blue eyes were wide and innocent looking and her figure was soft and full, good for childbearing their mother said. Maxwell quickly lost any interest in Katherine, his eyes hungrily following Rachelle.

In personality and manner, Rachelle was every bit the princess that Katherine would never be. She easily took to the lessons with their governess and was as prim and proper as their mother. Katherine put up with the classes as long as she had to but no longer. Within the castle, the only activity she enjoyed was the tutoring she received from Raz, the youthful, middle-aged wizard who resided as Karran Castle's master magic-user and her father’s most trusted advisor. Since it was not beyond the realm of believability for a princess to posses some magical talents, her father had agreed to the lessons and the magician had become Katherine’s closest friend. Rachelle, however, avoided Raz like the plague and had no burning desire to learn how to do anything beyond walk, feed herself and appear impressive and entertaining in front of guests.

Katherine glanced down the table to Raz who gave her an encouraging smile. She responded with a slightly suffering grimace that only he caught. The meal lasted about two hours. Katherine ignored the idle chat, giving monosyllabic answers to questions asked of her. She caught sight of a few Riders flying past the windows and longed to join them. She'd already suggested to her father that she would be a good candidate to Impress a dragon and become a Wing Rider but he had promptly turned her down. There would be no way that a princess would be a Wing Rider. Dragons had no sense of pedigree and rank in the Riders that they chose so the majority of Wing Riders were rough, uneducated and poorly bred, hardly fit to be seen at court. No daughter of his would be a Wing Rider and how dare she even consider such a thing.

So for the time being, she contented herself with being the casual observer. But she knew, one day, she would be soaring through the clouds like any other Wing Rider, no matter what her father said.


Chapter 02

When it was finally over, Katherine dismissed herself and returned to her room. She washed her face, undid the ribbons from her hair and pulled the dress over her head. She found the key buried in her wardrobe and pulled a trunk from underneath her bed. She opened the trunk and dressed in sung black pants, her black boots, turning the tops down and a white linen shirt, which she tucked into her pants. She pulled on her leather gloves and kicked the trunk back under her bed. Several times her father had searched her room to find these clothes but he'd never been successful. She took the servants' passage down to the courtyard and around to the stables and training yard. She leapt in front of the old stable master. "So what are we doing today, Bowen?" she asked cheerfully.

He glared at her. "I'm gonna help the boys break in a new herd o' Mustangs. You're going to go right back in there and help yer parents entertain the owners of those purty whites I just fed and groomed."

Katherine scowled. "I've done my time and paid my dues at breakfast, I'm ready to do something. Please?"

Bowen hesitated. The king would not be happy…but the girl had a way with horses, they always seemed calmer after she'd pet them and feed them a little. "Aye, fine," he said irritably.

She smiled widely and followed him out of the barn.

*************************************************

Katherine's father was once again entertaining the next day so Katherine had to wear the dress and eat downstairs. But when she walked through the door, her breath caught in her throat. Five people she'd never seen before were seated at the table. The two oldest, no doubt the Lord and Lady, both seemed fragile, even the man. Katherine felt she might break them if she was forced to shake their hands. Younger versions of the two were no doubt their children. They looked older than Katherine and about as arrogant as Rachelle. But the last man…

He wasn't royalty, she knew that automatically. And he certainly wasn't related in any way to the blond, frail creatures he was with. His hair was dark with light hints of red that could only be seen in bright light, not long like most nobles but, by definition, not short either. It was swept back from his tanned, slightly weathered face but didn't look styled. His dark eyes studied her and she felt her face flush. The royal blue and gold jacket rested on broad shoulders and he sat up straight but relaxed; someone with military training. "Katherine, this is the Lord Lonzo and Lady Liliana Cornell from Trentar and their son and daughter, Anthony and Calpurnia. And this is their captain of the guard, Raphael Conway."

Katherine was the only one who caught the distaste in her father's voice when he introduced the last. As were all important men, he was good at disguising his true feelings. Katherine curtsied, trying not to stare at Conway and knew that it was going to be hard; her seat was directly across from his, next to Anthony's.

For the first part of breakfast, Rachelle chattered on with Anthony about something that had to do with childbearing and how much influence the parents and governess should have. Katherine was quiet, but when she noticed how the conversation of her father and Cornell seemed to interest Conway about as much as it did her, she screwed up her courage. "Are you a Wing Rider, Captain?" she blurted, noticing how her father briefly glanced at her. But his attention was diverted to Cornell.

Conway looked up with a polite frown. "Sorry?"

"A Wing Rider," she repeated. "Our captain is and so are all the others I've heard of."

He frowned. "I've never heard of a Wing Rider."

She looked at him, bewildered. "Surely there are dragons in Trentar, it borders a mountain range."

"Yes, but..." His eyes lit up in realization. "I see. We call them Dragon Tamers. People who Impress dragons and are able to ride them, right?"

She nodded. "But that's not an entirely accurate title. Dragons can't be tamed."

He grimaced a little. "Don't I know it. I've had my blue for about twenty years now. Impressed it when I was seven and it still enjoys freezing my back end no matter how much I scold it."

Katherine couldn't help her smile. "So you are a Wing Rider then. I can't believe you Impressed a blue when you were that young. Don't they usually go for the older candidates?"

He smiled, impressed by her knowledge of dragons. "Usually. But Cold Fire appreciated me a little more than the next. I was an ambitious little brat."

Katherine laughed. "So how high does your ambition go?"

"I'm happy where I am," he nodded. "Hard work and battle are more appealing to me than servant-gazing and receiving reports."

"Is that so? I'm sure your wife is a very stressful woman," she commented.

He shook his head, a knowing smile playing over his lips. "If I marry, it'll be to a woman who can wear pants and fly right next to me."

"Well, Captain, I think you're in the wrong sort of company for a woman of that description," she said, longing to tell him of her own dreams and ambitions.

He looked at her curiously as if he believed he'd misjudged her in some way. "Well, the Lord Cornell asked me to accompany them here. Things are not so…traditional in Trentar."

"I see."

He suddenly stiffened and frowned. He stood up, addressing Cornell. "Milord, I must leave," he said tightly.

Seemingly used to such situations, Cornell nodded. "Of course."

The Captain bowed slightly to Katherine and tossed his napkin on the table. "Forgive me, milady, I enjoyed our conversation," he said quickly and jogged from the room.

Katherine finished eating and excused herself as well. She had slight hope of seeing Conway; the stables were far from the dragon ranch where he undoubtedly was. In the group of mustangs from the day before, there was a gorgeous black stallion with white boots and a white blaze on its forehead. Bowen had agreed, though reluctantly, to let her break it in herself; her father had already promised one of the horses to her. She was lucky enough to know the head stable hand so she would get her own choice of mount.

She changed into a similar outfit she'd worn the day before but substituted the shirt for a sleeveless top which she tucked into her pants. She stuck her gloves in her belt and pulled her hair back as she left her room. "There ye are, I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," Bowen said as Katherine approached.

"How could I stay away?" she asked, her eyes glowing. "Where is he?"

"Go get her black, lad," Bowen said to a boy nearby. He turned to Katherine. "Come, lass, help me with the tack."

She helped him bring the old and battered equipment from the stables and laughed at their condition. "You haven't shown these to my father recently, have you?"

"Nay, it's just the equipment we use for breaking," he pointed out. "And as for the fact of your royal bottom sitting on it, well, what he doesn't know won't hurt him."

She put a finger over her lips and smiled. "I'll take it to the grave."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, we need not be that extreme about it."

Katherine laughed and looked over towards the stables. A few minutes later she saw the boy leading her horse out. The animal tossed its head a few times and sidestepped. "'E's a fresh one," the boy informed, leading him into the paddock. "Be careful with him, milady."

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," Bowen frowned.

"Come on, Bowen! You and Richard'll be right there!" she pointed out. "Let's go!"

The horse seemed to like her, allowing her, with liberal amounts of oats and coaxing, to fasten the bridle on his head. She led him around the paddock until he was used to it then coaxed him to accept a saddle. She sensed he was reluctant but determined. "I think he may be ready for a rider," Bowen said, sounding impressed. He was at the fence, chewing on a piece of grass. "You want Rich to take over? He may get a little too fresh when ye mount 'im."

"Let me try it on my own, first," Katherine insisted. She stroked the horse's neck, asking it to be nice and not throw her.

She stuck her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself into the saddle, gripping the reins. Bowen had taught her to ride a long time ago but it was her first time on a new horse. All the others had been broken for at least a year.

She tried not to smile too much as she walked him around the circle then eased him into a canter. He was perfectly well-behaved. She rode him over to the fence near Bowen and Rich, sitting proudly. "What do you think, can I run him?" she asked.

Bowen frowned. "I don't know. We usually don't run freshly broke horses until the second or third day."

"Please? He's just fine!" she insisted.

Bowen hesitated. "Rich'll run him first. If he behaves then you can go."

Katherine sighed. "Fine."

She climbed off and took Rich's place. The man mounted the horse but the black apparently didn't like Rich. He immediately began bucking. Unprepared, Rich was shortly thrown.

Bowen vaulted the fence as the horse galloped across the paddock. He checked on Rich and the two went over to retrieve the horse. It reared, kicking at them and refused to let them near. Katherine darted over to them and up to the horse before they could object. It settled almost immediately when she grabbed his reins and muttered to him before she swung herself up. "It's a bad horse who'll only take one rider," Bowen said gruffly.

"Nah, just a selective horse," Katherine insisted. "Open the gates, let me run him!"

Bowen sighed and jerked his head. "See to it, Rich."

Katherine galloped the horse around the grounds to the training ground. "Where'd you get that piece o' horseflesh?" one of the knights, Billy, asked as Katherine rode up.

When she'd first started coming, they'd given her a hard time. But after a while she was seen more and more as a favorite sister and less as the daughter of their king. "New herd of mustangs, I just finished breaking this one it," she said, fondly rubbing its neck.

"You got some time to kill, Katherine?" Trent called from the rack of wooden swords.

She smiled and climbed of her horse, tying it to the rail. "Of course."

"You, lads, go to your posts," Billy ordered a few squires.

Watches were always posted when Katherine practiced, in case anyone who cared decided to come and see the princess doing something other than watching.

Trent tossed her a sword. "You been practicing?"

"As much as I can," she admitted.

They squared off and began sparing.


Chapter 03

Raphael Conway, called “Blade” among his men and friends, walked onto the training grounds, feeling curious. Cold Fire had been having a tiff with one of the dragon keepers of Karran Castle and he’d had been required to get serious with his partner-in-flight, giving himself approximately five seconds to change from his fancy, formal high-dining clothes into his more practical Dragon Tamer outfit. In the end, he'd had to release the blue for a while since the keeper had angered the giant reptile beyond measure. After that bit of excitement, he'd decided to explore. Now he noticed a few squires placed at strategic points around the training grounds, obviously guards. But what were they guarding?

He'd slipped past them, into the courtyard and saw a man and a woman sword- fighting with wooden practice swords. They couldn't seriously wound of course but Blade recalled the ugly bruises he'd gotten from his own training.

The man tripped the woman and she fell to the ground. Without missing a beat, she kicked the back of his knee. When he fell, she pressed the blunt business end of the sword to his chest. "Gotcha," she smiled.

One of the men laughed. "She got the best of you, Trent!"

The girl helped her opponent up and they started again. "Who's she?" Blade asked, trusting that, in such a big area, the man wouldn't know all of his comrades.

"You must be new," the man said, glancing at Blade. "That's Princess Katherine. She's been coming down here for combat lessons since I was a squire. Her father don't think too much of it though so he only sees her watching."

"I see," Blade responded. He imagined the squire guards would do well for a king who needed an entire entourage to go to the bathroom but if a spy were to try to get in, her secret would easily get out.

He leaned on the rough hewn wooden fence and watched as the princess fought like a squire trying to prove himself. More than once, her opponent sent her face first into the mud but she was quickly able to get back at him. In the dining hall he’d been a little curious but now he was downright intrigued. What kind of princess was this who came out to practice with the same guards her father considered scum? She treated them like friends, brothers even, and they responded in kind.

"Alright, alright!" she gasped suddenly, hooking the knight's ankle with her foot and sending him to his back. "I need to get back, Bowen's gonna-"

She stopped suddenly and looked up. The Cornell’s Captain Conway was clapping, a smirk on his face. "Very impressive, Princess," he said, unable to keep from noticing how the slick mud plastered her clothes to her strong athletic frame, now fully exposed by the pants and shirt, not hidden behind a cleverly tailored dress.

She bit her lip to keep back a curse that would have made her mother faint. "What are you doing here?" she managed between clenched teeth. He’d obviously been in a hurry since he still wore the fine dress pants although the fine embroidered jacket was gone. The linen shirt that had been underneath it was halfway undone, revealing a strong upper torso.

Billy, the knight Blade had talked to stiffened. "Who is he, Kath?"

"Raphael Conway, the Cornells' Captain!" she grunted as she stood up and helped Trent as well.

Billy, having none of Katherine's training to keep his composure, let out the exact oath the princess had longed to use. Blade's eyebrows rose. "Easy, man, have you no manners around your princess?" he asked.

Trent snorted. "You should hear her when she gets mad."

"Shove it, Trent!" Katherine automatically retaliated, brushing mud off of her face and doing her best to pull it from her hair. She wrung the drippy dirt out the best she could and tied it back again, doing her best to face Conway in a somewhat dignified manner. She refused to accept the fact that she was failing miserably. "So what do you want for your silence? A bribe? A royal favor sometime down the line when it would be more inconvenient for me?"

Blade waved his hand. "Your attitude changes amazingly quick, you know that?"

"Survival technique," she said, glaring at him. "Now what do you want?"

"I'll tell you one thing he's not getting," Trent said, grabbing his actual battle sword from his things and planting himself protectively in front of Katherine. A few of the other knights discretely moved towards their own arms, their body language changing from relaxed and casual to charged and ready.

Blade snorted. "As if I'd try anything like that in a training pit with two dozen highly protective knights standing around."

"I'm not asking again, Captain," Katherine said frostily, her arms crossed.

"I don't want anything. If a woman wants to learn how to protect herself, that's her business. I have no problem," Blade said, holding up his hands. "Your secret's safe."

"I don't believe you," she stated bluntly. "But I don't have any other choice. You're leaving soon, that's the only reason I'll let this go. Good bye, Captain."

She turned and walked off of the training ground. He noticed she didn't head toward the front entrance like royalty normally would have but headed to the back, towards the servants' entrance. "You'd best leave, sir," Trent said tightly. "I don't think you're welcome here anymore."

Blade shrugged. "If you insist."

He headed back towards the dragon ranch to wait for Cold Fire’s return.


Chapter 04

Raz walked into the training court in his personal tower. Katherine was there, magically levitating the poorly made clay jars and blasting them into oblivion with balls of energy. She'd bathed and changed into her riding clothes, what she usually wore around the castle if she wasn't at the knights and Wing Riders' training grounds. While Gideon Lockhart didn't like the snug, black pants, white shirt and black vest, they were well made and wouldn't look too out of place on a princess should any surprise visitors come to call. She suddenly sent three jars into the air with one hand and promptly sprinkled the ground with their dusty remnants using energy from the other. "Impressive," Raz said at last. "You're advancing far beyond what the king would approve of."

"Don't get too excited Master Raz, I doubt I'd be able to do half of this if it hadn't been for...unfortunate occurrences this afternoon," she admitted, taking a few breaths. She'd only been doing it for about ten minutes and she was already wiped.

"Do you wish to tell me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Twenty years had seen the small baby with a head full of downy black hair turn into a stunning young woman. He wished he was allowed to be as proud as he felt.

"The Cornells' captain saw me fighting Trent," she said and the memory gave her another wave of anger to direct at a pot.

"Becky and Nikko will be please, we'll be paying them extra this month for more pots," Raz stated mildly.

"Good, it's the only money their father doesn't drink away," she grunted, hurtling yet another of the peasant-made pots into the air. She suddenly sat down very hard and lay back digging her hands in her thick black mane. "Gods, Raz, what if he tells my father?"

"I don't believe he will. I've talked with Conway and he seems to be a man of his word."

"He told me himself he's ambitious. And he's noble. I just know he's gonna try to blackmail me with something..."

"Katherine, if I've taught you nothing else, you know-"

"Not to judge a person by their past or status," she finished. "I know, Raz but I just..."

"The theory sounds good but it fails you when you attempt to apply it to life," the wizard said with a knowing smile.

She sighed in defeat. "Yeah."

Raz smirked, walking over to her. The king would have a royal fit if he ever heard the word "yeah" cross the noble princess’s lips. He chucked her chin. "Conway will not tell your secret. I'm sure of it."

Katherine sighed. "I hope you're right. I can just imagine what my father would do if he found out."

"Marry you off, I've no doubt," Raz said nonchalantly, motioning one of the pots toward himself and inspecting it. "It would finally free Rachelle to marry and it would be the worst punishment for you. Truthfully, I think that's what he's waiting for; you to make a mistake."

"He'd probably give me to some drunken lord from the north," Katherine scowled. "I'd get beaten and raped every night..."

"Bah, you know that, by law, it's not rape if the couple is married," Raz pointed out, tracing patterns in the hardened clay with a glowing finger. "Besides, your father knows how clever you are, he wouldn't dare give you to a permanently inebriated man who no longer has his senses about him. No, I expect he'd give you to a half-wit with a controlling mother who knows how to run a household as well as a daughter-in-law. Or to one of the zealots from the south. Something to keep you at bay and break your spirit."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you and Father plot these things," she scowled, using magic to pull the pot from her teacher's hands.

Raz scratched his short, black and gray beard in thought. "Well, the king does trust me and has no idea that we're as close as we are. And I am his advisor so it's only natural that he'd tell me his ideas."

"Of course," Katherine said, rolling her eyes and gnawing at her thumbnail. It was almost comical how many bad habits the princess suddenly developed when the king was not around. She went over and grabbed her cloak. "I'm going back to the castle. I'm sure Becky and Nikko wouldn't mind seeing you this time. Farwell, Master Raz."

*********************************************

Alec Marset leapt nimbly over the railing of the ungodly high balcony, landing silently on the cool marble in a crouch. He stood, rolling up the rope connected to the hook he'd used to scale the wall. The sharp ache in his arms and legs were proof of how much energy it had taken to climb up the castle; Alec was in the best shape of any man he knew of. Half of his profession was done after climbing at least one obstacle or another. He tucked the rope into its special pocket inside his cloak and stretched a little before continuing. He walked silently over to the windows that opened into the bedroom and checked the hinges; they opened outward. He briefly considered taking the pin out but decided to use that as a last measure, as he always did. However, he quickly found that he'd need no measures beyond turning the handle to open the door. He quietly slipped it, closing it behind himself. He took in the room he was in, a dressing room it seemed: a large, white lacquer wardrobe, a matching chest, vanity and smaller cupboard he figured was for shoes. The carpet was a plush blue, dark enough that he didn't have to worry about footprints. He passed the vanity to another set of doors and paused at the mirror, stooping a little to look at his reflection, a rare treat. Dark stubble was on his cheeks, proof that he hadn't taken a razor to it in about three days. But the mustache and short beard on his chin were coming in nicely, just how he'd planned. He ran a hand through his dark auburn, almost brown, longish hair, brushing the strands out of his eyes before they fell right back into place. He sighed and straightened, walking towards the doors once more.

He opened them quietly and looked in the room; a bedroom this time, with someone in the bed. He went in, still silent, and began to cross the room, completely ignoring the sleeper. He was about half way to the doors that would undoubtedly lead to the hall when he heard a female voice bark a short command in the Ancient tongue and all of the lamps in the room flared to life. Alec winced at the sudden light and got a good look at the person who'd caught him, expecting no less than an armed guard twice his size who'd come through a secret passage behind a tapestry.

Far from being twice his size, she looked as if he would double her weight and he was quite certain he'd be at least a foot taller than her. She was on one knee in the bed, a knife with an ornately carved wooden handle gripped tightly in one hand, business end towards him, with a very serious look on her face. Her black hair was pulled back into a braid and her silvery eyes flashed angrily. He wondered how she expected to look intimidating in the sheer blue nightdress she wore that was hitched up to her firm thigh on her raised leg...

"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?" she demanded, pulling him from his thoughts.

He smirked. "Here I was expected a trained knight wielding a sword and all I get is a kitten pointing a dinner knife at me-"

"I'm not in the mood," she interrupted. "Answer my question."

"I'm cleaning," he said smoothly.

"Cleaning?" she repeated skeptically.

"Yes."

"You look like that and you expect me to believe you work in this place where my father goes mad if he sees a servant with a loose thread?" she asked.

Alec frowned, looking down at his garb; his cloak was obviously old and worn, his boots being in hardly better condition. And he expected his few days growth of beard didn't make him look over professional as well. "But I didn't say I worked for your father, now, did I?"

"Who do you work for then?"

He considered the question, not wanting to lie to her, of course. "Myself."

"What's your name?"

"Alec Marset, at your service, kitten," he said with an extravagant bow.

Her eyes widened. "You're the Guildmaster?"

"I know of no other men by that name so I must be," he said with the air of someone admitting that one plus one equaled two.

"I don't know how you got here but leave, now. Or I'll call the knights," she threatened.

"Aw, kitten, do you really want to turn me in like that? You just met me!" he said with a smile. He saw the telltale wavering of resolve that signaled his limited magic taking affect.

"S-stop calling me that!" she stammered, looking unsure of herself now.

He began to walk slowly towards her; she no longer noticed, her eyes rooted to his face. She lowered the knife. "Well, what's your name then?" he asked, reaching up and taking the knife as easily as if she'd handed it to him.

"I, erm...K-Katherine," she said, looking at him as he moved closer to her. He slipped the knife into his cloak. It would fetch a decent price.

"Not the Princess Katherine," he said, taking up her hand and tracing patterns on her wrist.

"Mm-hm," she said, swallowing hard.

"You don't look much like a princess," he said, taking in her well-toned body.

She looked vulnerable, no longer the tough young woman threatening him with a knife she'd no doubt smuggled from dinner at some point or another. "Well, I-I-I am."

"Go back to sleep, Katherine," he said, brushing a strand of jet black hair off her cheek, taking slow steps forward to urge her back in bed. "I'll be done and gone in no time."

"OK," she said, not bothering to argue as he pulled her covers back over her.

He kissed her forehead, touching her cheek one more time. "'Night, kitten."

"'Night," she mumbled, falling asleep almost instantly.