Green Princess

By Jolie Jaquinta

Princess Kimberly, last scion of the ancient Kingdom of Londra, has emerged, after 3000 years, from the Black Tour where she was mourning the death of her kingdom. Once poised to inherit the pinnacle of all things in the world, now all that was is only dimly remembered by scholars. And, yet, this new world fears another cataclysm akin to the one that consumed hers. What is she to make of this new world, and what are they to make of her?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jolie Jaquinta
• Release date: Feb 10, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005207342

Jolie Jaquinta

I enjoy pondering the complex web that binds all of us together and the complicated decisions we have to make to navigate that web. Whether science fiction or fantasy, my writings try to speak to that complexity in narrative form.

Book preview

Chapter 1 – The Quest

Sir Coral Valkyr flew through the air and landed heavily in the thigh deep water in what was becoming an all too familiar way. He held his breath and waited the moment it took for his excessively magical armor to work out he was no longer airborne and to limber up. When his joints became mobile, he staggered to his feet. Water cascaded from him. Battered and bedraggled pennants and plumes snapped upright and waved in the sea breeze. At least along the left side. The magical charger powering their constant repair and renewal had given out on the right-side hours ago fighting the outer ring of air elementals.

A wave detached itself from the general choppy water, rose above the rest, and bore down on Coral. With a sigh, the knight braced his feet on the sandy bottom, and brought up his sword, point first, into a braced position. His shield had been blown away in a previous arc through the air. Although it was imbued with returning magic, Coral had not bothered to activate it yet.

With a gibbering scream, the elemental impacted upon Coral, the sword slicing deeply into the torrent. The weapon was especially enchanted with anti-elemental magic and wrought great and painful damage upon it. Coral recovered and scanned the water for the subtle difference in texture between normal sea water and elemental water. He had enough practice in the last few hours to spot the different between the severed parts of the entity and the still animated mass coiling to spring upon him with the last of its energy.

With a low grunt he brought his sword up to intercept its lunge. With a bubbling scream its animation left it and the elemental water began to deliquesce into the sea water.

Coral set the armor back to rigid and sagged in it, catching his breath. Go in peace, you poor tenacious wretch, he said. He knew it wouldn't matter. Elementals bound to duty and driven mad by millennia of service would not appreciate chivalric gestures. But he was the Queen's Champion, whether the crowd was watching or not. And, although this particular quest was not exactly at her behest, she granted him leave to perform it for his other master for the good of the nation.

He glared up at the sky and the swirling clouds overhead. Some glared back at him. But those elementals were tasked to guard the upper realms, and although unhappy with his presence, they could not deviate from their bound duty. They did, however, fly in a fixed course, a great circling mass around his destination. Which made them a handy reference. He aligned himself crosswise to their direction and set off again.

His mistress who had sent him here was, perhaps, the most enigmatic person he knew. She was one of a group of mages in a bygone era that had revolutionized magic from mystical hocus pocus to rigid principles. Yet they had nearly destroyed the world with their bickering. Lady Gwendolyn, along with a hundred and forty-three others, had banded together to rid the world of the knowledge. But, unlike the other one hundred and forty-three, she had not undertaken the final oath to rid the knowledge from her own mind. But they went their way, and became the first gods, and she went hers. It worked out fine for 3000 years until they had to go and kill all the gods. And the price for Lady Gwendolyn's aid in that endeavor was the promise from Queen Jesca for Coral's aid in this endeavor.

And, yet, his instructions for this quest were uncharacteristically straightforward. He had to rescue a princess. Simple, really. Oh, sure, the princess was locked in a tower on an uncharted island they only found because it was perpetually stormy. And it was guarded by hordes of bound elementals covering all approaches by air, sea, or underground. But all that was nothing to the Queen's Champion of Romitu, clad in enough magical armor to pass through the digestive track of a Dragon in one piece.

Coral paused, sighed, and wished for the umpteenth time that the armor also imbued him with water breathing so he could lie down and have a nap. But it didn't so he lurched into motion again. Was there a sandbar ahead? Or was it another mirage? The bottom rose and fell, between calf and waist deep. The irregular shoals were murderous for ships and almost as bad to walk through. According to Gwendolyn this was the Kingdom of Londra, jewel of the pre-cataclysmic world. Grand courts, stunning tournaments, and a great flying city. He had hoped its ruins would be more than a sandbar.

But the water was definitely getting shallower. For a moment, as his foot hit a soft spot, he feared that there were earth elementals guarding this path. But it was just some slipping sand. He heard surf but saw nothing. Yes! cried Coral. If he was now facing magical glamours, he must be making progress. He strode forward with new purpose.

And then he was through. Water drained from his boots as he crunched up a low gravel beach. He could now see a windswept islet, probably less than an acre, and nothing but stunted grass and a squat black tower. Poor Princess Kimberly waits in her tower, quoted Coral. Those were the words said by the Grey Elf Rose. Allegedly one of the creators of the world, and infinitely more subtle than his own enigmatic patron. The words only had meaning for Lady Gwendolyn and, ultimately, led to him being here. Knight to castle fore! said Coral, doing a fist pump in the air.

This was the dread Tower of Londra. He was here! He did a quick check. No massive serpent coiled around it. No fire elemental with a sword of flame. No sphinx with riddles. The puzzle it presented was clearly to be less conventional than traditional.

His consideration was broken by the sound of slow clapping. He looked up, and not far up the tower was a balcony. A young woman in a green kirtle stood on it watching him with one eyebrow raised. Her eyes matched the dress and her blonde wavy hair was loose about her head. She looked young, but also old. Or, not so much old, but like someone young trying to look old. Like a kid playing dress up. But not so much how she looked, but somehow in the way she stood.

Coral unbuckled the straps on his helmet and took it off, the better to see her. But he immediately regretted it, visualizing his face red with exertion, indentations from the helmet, and sweat plastered hair. Um, he said.

The woman leaned forward, looking at him, intrigued. Not a human, she said, her voice easily carrying in the calm. Not an elf. Something in-between.

Coral self-consciously brushed his hair back over his slightly upswept ears. Um, yes, he said. So, there weren't half elfs back in the day?

I'm guessing there's some story there, she said, her face sliding back to neutral.

Well, there might be, but I'm not sure of it, said Coral. My parents were half elfs, as were their parents. None of us are really clear on that.

Rose sent you? she asked, looking straight back at him.

Coral opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. Yes, he said slowly nodding. In a roundabout way. I guess you can say that, yes, Rose did send me.

Why? she asked.

Coral waved his finger, Now that is a very good question.

For which you don't have a very good answer she interrupted him. And, before he could reply to that she continued. So maybe you can tell me in what less roundabout way you find yourself here.

Yes, I can, said Coral, feeling his feet back under him. Not all have forgotten Londra, he said, in a well-rehearsed tone. Though the years have been long, there are those that once served you who would serve you again. I was tasked to come here and render what aid I could to you by the Lady Gwendolyn. He bowed formally.

Who?

Lady Gwendolyn Coral said flatly. Elf. Tall. Blonde hair.

There were many who once served Londra. Coat of arms? she asked.

Ah, said Coral. He pulled a small black lump from a pouch and pressed a stud on it. There were two loud tones. Just a second, said Coral. He looked from her, to the ocean, and back to her again. Just... It will just be a second. The woman looked on with distant interest.

After a bit of time a shape could be seen skimming over the surf. As it got closer, the shape resolved into Coral's shield racing across the water. He took a few steps to the water's edge and collected it as it grounded on the shore. There we go, he said. He brushed off some grime and held up the shield to her. On it was blazoned three black castles aflame, on an upturned white chevron, all on a blue field. Along the top was a stripe, indicating this was the arms of a retainer and not the actual bearer of the arms.

Ah, she said flatly. One of the renegades.

Coral sagged. Have I got the right princess? You are Princess Kimberly, yes?

The woman in green drew herself up tall. I am Princess Kimberly, daughter of Queen Winnifred the twenty seventh, last, and probably final scion of Londra. She looked piercingly at him. It is unlikely I shall ever be crowned, as the last thing I saw as my mother sent me to be shut in the tower was a great tsunami of fire descending upon fair Londra defended by an equally towering wall of water and now Londra is no more. Lady Gwendolyn was not by my mother’s side, as those who proved to be true servants of Londra were. Maybe her presence there would have been a fool's errand, or maybe it would have been a rallying gesture. Above all Londra has always favored deeds inspired by ideals rather than practicality. She looked around her. And this is what it has come to.

Coral sighed deeply and put down the shield. Well... your Highness. He looked about him. I serve the Lady Gwendolyn, and she considers herself in service to you. Is there any service that I may render to you?

The Princess looked long upon him. I see more than one coat of arms displayed. Who else do you bear service to?

Coral looked confused for a moment, and then his hand went to an embroidered streamer of cloth bound to his belt. He smiled and nodded. I am also Champion to Queen Jesca of Romitu.

Kimberly nodded slowly. Two masters? Only the best take on such a heavy burden. Are you among the best?

Coral bowed deeply. It is not for me to say. I aspire to do my best and leave the judging to others.

She tapped her lip. "You are well schooled she said. Very well. It appears to be my mentor's wish that I accompany you. I shall be down presently."

She turned and left the balcony. The dark stone flowed around her, sealing up and leaving no trace of where the balcony had been. Almost immediately the stone flowed again at the base. Steps emerged and a portal opened, and the Princess strode through. Now she was dressed in well-tailored riding clothes, still in a deep green. A large pouch was slung over one shoulder.

Coral looked from her, to where the balcony had been, and to the portal behind her. It was now rapidly closing, and he could just see the hint beyond of a great hall that did not look like it should fit in the tower. Nice trick, he said, shaking his head.

Kimberly nodded and said distantly. Time passes differently in the tower.

Chapter 2 – Gratitude

Sit down, said Clive firmly, pushing Coral back into the heavy chair.

They were in an antechamber in the High City of Romitu. Magical candles lit the well-appointed room against the darkness of night. An untouched plate of food sat in front of the fuming Coral.

She's just... sputtered Coral, waving a threatening finger. So irritating! he concluded, with a growl.

I know the type, said Clive, with no visible trace of humor.

The condescending little twerp... started Coral.

Who happens to be your liege's liege, interrupted Clive.

...had the audacity to lecture her, continued Coral, unabated. "She chastised her like a little child. Treated her, probably the eldest person in the world, like an errant brat."

Clive pushed a goblet of watered wine in front of Coral. Roughly speaking, they're both about 3,000 years old.

No, no, no, no, said Coral, pushing the wine away. There's something up with that tower. He shook his head and picked up a grape. She said something about time being different. He put the grape back down.

If she's only as old as she looks, said Clive, the fall of Londra can't have happened that long ago to her.

I get that, said Coral more quietly. But I expect someone of her... lineage... to have some objectivity.

You mean to be grateful? said Clive.

That would be a start, said Coral. He pulled the plate towards him and stared at it.

Clive leaned against the table watching Coral not eat. So, she sees her world destroyed. Then gets locked up in that tower alone. What? One year? Two years? That sort of solitude will get to you.

Coral shook his head again. I don't think she was alone.

Clive arched his eyebrow. You think there were others in there with her?

I don't know, said Coral, pushing the plate away again. She reeked of elf.

Clive raised his other eyebrow. Reeked?

I don't know how else to put it, said Coral, folding his arms across his chest and leaning back. He looked out the window. The way she stood. The way she stared. Even when she didn't say anything it communicated volumes. He met Clive's eyes. The royal family of Londra was supposed to have Grey Elf patrons.

Clive nodded. Rose led her to us. You think Rose is in there?

Coral shrugged. I don't know. Maybe it's just a Royalty of Londra thing. But that kid has had some serious Elven Body Language Elocution lessons.

Clive smiled wryly. That might explain some things. Phyllis signaled me that the two of them are just standing there, not saying much after I escorted you out.

Coral nodded. There's something to be said for that. Family feuds in Elven quarters are, if nothing else, quiet. Then he sighed. But they can also go on for decades.

Clive wandered over to the windows. He hopped up on the ledge and sat in the frame looking out over the city. It was overcast and the moon was not up, so the bulk of the city was dark, except where snakes of light from the new magical lighting traced out the streets.

She's about the same age as Jesca, said Clive after staring out the window for some time. Both Queens before their time. They have a lot in common with one another. Much they could learn from each other. Strengths each have that can support the other.

Coral looked up. Maybe, he said. But they've both been thrust into positions where they must pretend to know more than they do, act with the appearance of confidence they don't have, and give the expectation of unquestioned loyalty so no one ever thinks of questioning it. What do you really think the chances are of them working together?

Approximately? asked Clive. Well, in round terms, if I were a betting man, I would say roughly... zero.

Coral sighed and inspected a piece of cheese. So, what do we do? asked Coral.

Clive swung down from the window. Let me deal with the Queen and the Princess. I've got to negotiate that little encounter with no blood spilt. You, my friend, have other things to attend to.

Oh? said Coral, nibbling the smallest corner of the cheese.

What do you know about dragons? asked Clive.

Dragons? said Coral, puzzled. Reptiles about the size of a hay cart. Emperor Antonia conquered their lands back in the day and made them subjects as long as they didn't eat anything that could talk. Once they stopped breathing fire on everything, they discovered their taste buds and, since they can digest anything, the perfect marriage was made between newborn connoisseurs and Romitu chefs who always like a challenge. Isn't there an enclave of them down in the restaurant district?

That's not exactly the history I was taught, said Clive.

I had an Elven history teacher, explained Coral.

Ah, said Clive. No matter. This is more about their history rather than our history of them.

Coral nodded and added some bread to his cheese. I never really thought about their history.

It's a common Romitu failing, said Clive. He paced the room. This really isn't my field, but I think it goes like this. He put his hands behind his back. We've been focused on the Grey Elves, who say they made the world as some grand experiment. Your mistress is focused on the Ancient Ones who, apparently, pre-date the Grey Elves. But there are also Dragons. Not the charcoal eating dragons but ones with a capital D, of the same order of being. No one has really thought that much about them.

Coral stopped chewing. After a moment, he swallowed hard. And this is what I am to be attending to?

Queen's orders, said Clive.

It's not really my field either, said Coral. Seems more like something Jack would be good at.

Clive rolled his eyes. The spymaster would probably set up a detailed surveillance system, stake them out, and record everything they said for years, cross tabulate the results, and come up with an interpretation. He stopped pacing and shrugged. I think you just need to find the right dragons, buy them a few pints of turpentine, and ask them straight out.

I guess, said Coral. There isn't that much derring do to be done these days.

Clive glanced at the inner chamber where Kimberly and Gwendolyn were. Yes, back when things were simple. Well, simpler. He passed over a slip of paper with a scrawl on it.

Coral peered at it. Growl? asked Coral. Is this a password, or a language primer?

It’s a name, said Clive. He made a sort of gravelly groan. That was a horrible rendition, he said. Although it took me three pints of porter to get that close.

So, he lives at this address? asked Coral, looking at the rest of the slip.

She said Clive. When she’s in town I’m told she lives there. It’s a converted stable, now used as a sort of flop house for dragons.

Stone, I take it, said Coral. Clive smiled and nodded. How do you know… her?

She was a, sort of, religious liaison from Lung Quo back during the republic, said Clive. She and Scipio had common interests for a while. Although with Growl I think it was more curiosity than anything else.

But things have soured since the god-war? asked Coral. Was her god one of the ones who the AEvatar killed?

This was before all of that, said Clive. Politics changed. No animosity or anything. At least as far as I was aware. I’m just a bodyguard.

A royal bodyguard, said Coral. And I’m a royal champion. And it was me who had to go and be the face of Romitu to all those gods. Most of whom are now dead. He shuddered. I don’t think I called in on the dragon pantheon.

Enh, said Clive. Growl was never that religious.

What? said Coral. But as a religious attaché, I presume she was at least a minor priestess.

Clive shrugged. She was. How that all works, I have no idea.

Coral looked at the paper again. Well, she certainly sounds like an interesting character.

Just bring her a bag of charcoal, preferably hemlock, and you’ll be fine said Clive. She likes to talk. Clive looked away and raised his finger to a gem on a string around his throat. Phyllis says it appears the interview between Gwendolyn and Kimberly is over. Time to navigate protocol again.

Coral pushed back his chair. Once more into the breach…

Chapter 3 – Old Threats, New Threats

The axe flew across the guard room and impacted heavily against the target. Then, with a clang, it fell to the floor. It lay there under the sectioned tree trunk, on top of several others.

Across the small room a Dwarf reflexively picked up another axe and distractedly hefted it in his hand. He wore grey. Simply cut, although well-tailored. His hair and beard were dark but speckled with grey. They were simply braided, with a common work weave rather than one of the more elaborate signature braids of a Dwarven clan.

Thunk! Another axe hit the log and slid to the pile. The Dwarf was unaware, his eyes focused on other things. When