The Lost Princess:

Kiah Halliway’s Story

Prologue/Introduction:

Kiah Halliway was the patron saint of a city called Delta, known for its affiliation with water and all things organic. According to legend, she was born, lived and died by Delta and the church, forever faithful, forever striving for resolution between the feuding peoples of Cretia, a world years from now, where fairies, dragons, elves and pixie folk are all known of and where there is a new order in the natural scheme of things. Long gone are we and now there live a race called “Felidae”, an evolved species feline and canine affiliates.

Not so long before her, Kiah’s kindred fought a great battle between the church and it’s sceptics, those mostly of not of the Felidae race. Those who had been around, since before the Felidae, claimed that there had been other species before the Felidae and that the holy story of creation was wrong. The church, fearful that their story vanquish any power that they held over the people of Cretia vowed to make their rivals repent and except their word over the sceptics own eyes. Of course, this led to war, with both sides protesting their stories and neither one really listening to the other through stubbornness. The people ignored this, hoping in vain for some sort of resolution and according to Felidae legend, they received their miracle, after twelve years of war and bloodshed, in the form of a young girl, Kiah Halliway.

In the holy scripts Kiah ‘ struck the feuding peoples down with the hand of Alexander himself, making them see the error of their ways, then, knowing her task as messenger was complete, she died on the battlefield.’ The people, inspired by Kiah’s bravery, then resolved their differences and vowed never again to quarrel. Kiah was made the patron saint of Delta ten years after her death and was laid to rest at the holy church in Ellenor, or so they say. But is that all? Does anybody truly question the life or death of a saint? Do true believers of the faith ever question it? But more to the point can a dead woman give birth…?

Chapter One:

Rain

I felt the first raindrops fall onto the palms of my hands as I waited ready to receive my gift. I tried hard not to see the gathering crowd but tried to stay focused and willing to complete my task. I tried not to think of the aftermath or of myself but of how proud everyone would be. How safe they would all feel after all of this was over and done with. But I couldn’t help wondering if it could hurt anymore than it did right now, when it happened or thinking of how wrong this felt as the priest laid cold steel upon my hands. I could hardly bear to look at it, although I kept seeing it in the corner of my eye, a shimmering blade, laced with gold and all of the sanctity of the ancient texts. I managed to glimpse the thing before turning away although I had seen it many times before in the temple. I had never actually held it or any other sword before, and I almost fell to the ground, burdened by it’s weight, even with the priest only resting it upon my hands whilst he still held it.

“ May the Lord receive you,” the old priest recited the last rights, word for word, for all to hear: The sacrament of the spiritually condemned. It was a chant, that none but the spiritually condemned, wraiths that still lingered amongst the world of the living should hear. In other words, those possessed by so-called ‘evil’ spirits. In those days, exorcism existed upon the sole purpose of freeing both the intruding spirit and the host. In other words, if you were ‘possessed’ then you were dead as good as dead either way. Dead to the world, once the spirit took hold of you and began to use your body as it’s own. Either that or the church would come to ‘liberate’ you, so they called it. They came for me, just as they had come for my grand mother before and every woman through generations of my father’s family but it was different this time and I couldn’t make them understand, just as my mother couldn’t before she disappeared. You see, I wasn’t possessed: I was joined.

“ May God have mercy on your soul…”

It was then that it truly dawned on me, for the first time. I was going to die.

The crowd all uttered a collective gasp, as the blade slipped from hands and I fell to the floor beside it. The weight of the sword, The Holy Trinity, suddenly collapsed on top of me, as the priest let go of it. The damnation of the whole town and the sheer bulk of the sword made me go weak at the knees and I fumbled in the rain for the Trinity, blinded by my own tears and the pounding rain. I closed my eyes and held my breath to the whispers coming from all around of those who had seen. Felidae, that I had known for years, whose children had been my friends, those who had nurtured me all of my life now looked down upon me with scorn, fear or even a little sadness as I struggled to stand up, cold and alone, in the pouring rain. Not one of them helped me. Now, for the first time, I really saw the many faces of the church and it’s followers. They all looked down upon me, from their pedestals high and mighty hiding behind a false god. I could hear them all around me:

“ The blade…it burnt her!”

“ Just like her grand mother…”

“ Should have been drowned at birth!”

Lies. All lies. According to the ancient scrolls, the sword of the Holy Trinity was judgement laid upon the hands of those accused. If it were laid upon the hands of those possessed, then the blessed scorn of Alexander himself would burn their palms. In truth, the sword was almost as big as my leg and as heavy as pure lead once the priest let it go. None but the priest and the accused had ever touched it and only one ever held it alone. It was always carried to the moors, where the trials were held, on a silver platter by four of the church’s most trusted followers. I had always refused the task myself before, after I turned sixteen and ‘come of age’. I never believed it was lawful but never chided them because I was so faint hearted. Instead I simply had said that I was not strong enough to carry the sword. I now saw that my reason was merited. I felt a sudden rush of anger as I watched them all, watching me, their eyes now all appearing beady and the colour of raven’s feathers. I wanted to scream at them, ask them why, why would they set me such a trial that they knew I could not pass? It now made sense why nobody had ever returned innocent and the thought made my blood run cold as I struggled to drag the cursed thing back up with me. But the rain was falling hard and fast now, beating down upon my eyes and smothering my tears; tears I did not want them to see. I was shielded from all but a handful of people who offered condolence but no help:

“ It’ll be alright, Kiah, you’ll see.”

“ It’s all for the best, dear. What your mother would have wanted.”

“ Come now, don’t cry. We all knew this day would come…”

We all knew this day would come. They all knew. What chance did I stand, alone, amongst them? They had planned this all along, all that pretence, all of those false friendships. I felt as though my heart had been torn, split right down the middle and I wasn’t sure now whether to laugh or cry.

Ironically enough, the only one who seemed to care, the only one whom stepped forward to help me up was the one who had the most to do with all of this beside myself. He who knelt beside me and helped me entwine my frozen fingers around the Holy Trinity and stand tall when no other would. He was the high priest of the church of Ellenor. I had met him but once before the trial, when I was just a child. He had caught me in the streets of Delta after I had fallen to save me from grazed knees. I wondered now, as he helped me to my feet would he now catch me again, save me from these people. No hope was found when he embraced me. A last farewell, he whispered in my ear, as I rested my tired head upon his shoulder, my tears now falling upon the blessed robes of Alexander.

“ My child,” He whispered in my ear, “ I grant you your release!”

Then, without warning, he gave me a gentle shove towards the edge of the cliff. With a cry, I stumbled backwards. He looked me straight in the eye, as I struggled to find my balance, dragging the sword along behind me.

“ Death is only the beginning…”

I walked with him to the edge of the cliff, slowly, the Trinity scuffing along the dirt, weighing me down.

“Turn and face the judgement of your kinsmen, Kiah Halliway.”

He said this louder now and more solemnly.

I stepped aside to face the congregation. A sea of familiar faces all of which now seemed morphed by the demons that had haunted my dreams ever since my mother had died, the things they had now become, glowing with green eyed hatred. I knew even before Evan, the town elder stood forward what the verdict was.

“ Kiah Halliway, heir to the throne of Delta-”

“ Wait! Stop! Halt! Desist!”

There was a series of shocked gasps, as the ocean of faces was prised apart by an uninvited but welcome party of Felidae. Voices of protest rang out everywhere and I laughed, despite myself, to see my three friends, Elijah, Kari and Adam emerge from the crowd, dishevelled and loyal.

“ Don’t any of you move,” Adam yelled, brandishing the heavy iron sword that I recalled his father giving him for his fifteenth birthday the previous year.

“ Don’t wowwy, pwincess,” Kari said, softly, twirling her long golden hair around the tip of her own wooden sword. “ We won’t let them hurt you!”

I knelt down to speak to her, but as I did, I saw Elijah bounding towards me through the crowd, nearly knocking my aunt Gerda off the cliff face in my place.

“Princess, I’m here! It’s okay now!”

Typical Elijah, I thought as I studied each of them carefully. Elijah who always thought that he could take on the world with balls of steel and a smart mouth: Kari, the little girl who followed him and their older brother, Adam, around all of the time. She was always the life and soul of the party. I remember how much she always made the boys and me laugh: Adam, who always liked to play ‘the adult’. He always organised everything we ever did, as precisely as though our whole lives depended on it. They were all very loyal to me and I know that they would have gladly died for me that day and I would have done the same for them. Even now they brightened up my day, charging through with swords that they could barely carry, making idol threats, hopelessly outnumbered.

“ What are you doing here?” I asked of the obvious, though not really caring, and just glad that they were here.

“What does it look like you fool?” He let out a nervous laugh as he took hold of my wrist and began to pull me forward, clearing the way, waving the sword about his head like a lasso.

Kari glanced up at me, bright eyed and smiling, “ You’re not evil, Kiah. We believe you.”

I reached out and touched her gently on the head. “ I know, my love. I know.”

I suddenly found myself jerking away from his grasp and letting out a sigh, I watched them take Adam and Kari away, whilst they struggled to be free. Elijah…oh, if I could have said anything to him then it would have been ‘sorry’, anything but nothing. I couldn’t even look my best friend in the eye that day, and that is my shame, even as he cried out to me as they held him fast. He refused to be taken and I suppose he saw it all. Maybe for putting him and my other friends through that I deserved my fate.

“Do you Kiah,” The priest went on, “ accept the judgement of the congregation of Alexander himself?”

“Kiah! WAIT!”

I don’t know why I did it. Maybe it was because I had been told for so long that I was evil, possessed…maybe I actually believed it now. It was all so easy back then. I was told how it was to be, what I was to do every step of the way, all I know is when I said those two words I signed away what ever remained of my friendship with Delta. So I took a deep breath, glanced up for a moment and said it:

“I do.”

Then I simply let go…

I don’t entirely recall the moment I jumped. I fell so hard and so fast that I wasn’t sure of what to think. I felt so numb with cold that I could only feel the pounding winds rushing against me, almost trying in vain to keep me from falling. I felt detached, dead. I suppose I even expected it before I could hit the ground. Then, suddenly I felt my arm being wrenched upwards and cried out in a mixture of shock and pain. There was a god awful screeching sound, like nails across a chalkboard, which echoed off the cliff face and into my throbbing temples. Pain shot up my arm and I felt for a moment as though I were being pulled in two directions. Then I just kind of hung there, suspended above nothingness, by nothingness, my feet fumbling for ground that wasn’t there. It took me a moment to realise that I still had hold of something in the rock face. When I finally found it in myself to open my eyes, I almost lurched at the sight of the waves crashing below and quickly averted my eyes to whatever it was I was holding. Panicking, I swung my other arm up onto the object, and was almost blinded by the sight of shimmering silvery-gold metal. To my amazement, I saw the Trinity, there, embedded in the Cliffside, my hand carefully wrapped around the glistening handle. What amazed me was the way it had caught the cliff, even at the speed I felt I was falling. What amazed me even more was the fact that the priest had not taken it from me before the judgement was made, as he usually would. I had not the time to think now, I decided, grabbing hold of the sacred thing with both hands and steadying my feet against the rock face, and began to slowly make my way up to a nearby shelf. As I did there was nothing but the sounds of chattering seagulls and the ocean below. No more congregations?

“ Unto thy hands Oh lord!” came the distant cry of the old priest.

“ Amen. Justice is done,” came the collective chant.

I have never felt so much rage as I did back then, listening to them praise my death, to Alexander, he who, had he wanted me to die, I’m sure would have saw the Trinity fall to my death with me. Then it came: A shower of roses, some the colour of the blood others, the majority, as pure white as the driven snow. It was a rain of apology. In Deltian tradition, if the defendant was believe to be innocent after their sentencing, a member could relinquish a white rose to show their sorrow. If a member still believed the convicted to be guilty, a red rose was dropped, to symbolize the death of the person and nothing else. Commit their sole to the ocean, the very founder of Delta, and the only true lord, besides Alexander, in the City of Water. It was mad. The lot of them were mad. Rain upon me, Delta, I vowed, and I will have my revenge.