Twisting Vines and The Pixie Blade

Arian was confident with a new toy around his belt and was the first to move. He gave it little thought; in his mind, it was pure luck anyway. The greenery swayed in the dark, feeling eerily alive, watching him, waiting. Naturally, he ran into a dead end quickly. But he smirked instead of turning back and unsheathed his steel. Stormcaller cut through vines and bark like a whip through the air, and sap oozed from the wall. As Oswyn informed, however, the vines regenerated, and the cut branches regrew instantly, cutting off the path ahead. The second son sheathed the blade away and gave in, turned and retraced his way forth.

Robin was the second to move. He was last to select a path in Azura’s trial, and he regretted that. Now, he was a sacrificial lamb locked in a greenhouse with a pair of wolves. Every second he stood at the entrance was another that doubt and fear slowly drowned him. There was no backing out now, and the only way to survive, was to win.

Aurelio was reserved. He reached an opening with multiple paths ahead. He walked to the centre and analysed them one after another. The vines would look thicker in one area, so he would go that way with an unshakeable confidence. Reina’s words still stung in his heart, but it wasn’t time for that now.

They all believed, at the very least, that their choices were their own. But the wrong path was always blocked off, and the way back strangely was the same. They were unknowingly being guided further into the thicket. This was no maze; it was a spider’s nest, with a thousand-eyed evil awaiting their presence... and as they passed by the first layer of the web, the strands began to move.

*-*-*

During each trial, it had become a custom for the attendees to gather at the front of the ship, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action. Oswyn often used his spells to locate the competitors and broadcast their progress, almost like a show. He had strict rules for the aides of the princes. They were confined to their vessels and kept updated by the guards the Chancellor commanded. Being aboard the mothership without permission was mutiny; it was outside interference in the trials and was punishable by death. It did not stop Tara or Kamau from chasing after her.

“Ms. Tara, we must leave!” Kamau commanded in a whisper. But she continued. “As Prince Robin’s friend, you are welcome aboard the Sparrowhawk, but not here… certainly not at this hour.”

Suddenly, she spun on a five-pence; Kamau only managed to avoid crashing into her. “I know what I saw!” She barked.

“Chancellor Oswyn meeting with a servant of Arian.” He replied.

“A servant, not Arian himself. Would the Chancellor meet with you alone?” She inquired.

Kamau gave it a thought but seemed unsure. “He would”. There was doubt in his eyes, and Tara could see it, no matter how much he tried to feign confidence. She did have a point. Oswyn only involved himself with the elite, the upper echelons of the courts. He wasn’t a fan of those lesser than him, and he kept to his books unless it was necessary to show his face. Even when he met with Kamau, he never looked him in the eye, never spoke those honeyed words unless others were present. Brakkan was the polar opposite of what one might call elite. Born to a battle maiden in Phaxi after she had been shamed. She would share a part of the battlefield with a savage of the far North; he took her unwillingly on that very dirt. Six years later, she was dead, and her son of five years was terrorising the border between Vardar and Phaxi. He was as low-born as low-born came…

She turned and resumed her march forth as he was thinking, giving the soldier little time to react. “Oswyn has the power in this competition. He gets to put the princes in these stupid trials, and at the end, he puts the crown on the winner’s head.” She explained.

“I get your point, Tara, but you’re not making sense.” He grabbed her arm, and she turned silent. “The Chancellor was put in his position because he’s the most respected member of the courts. He’d lose everything if they found out he was fixing things for Arian. His position, his reputation… his head. If you are found here, plead as much as you want, you are just a common girl. They will take you away, and Oswyn can continue his games.”

She didn’t respond immediately, looking as if his words had gotten through to her. Thinking as much, he unhanded her and cautiously looked around for any patrolling guards that might see them.

“You weren’t born in the slums, were you, Kamau?” She asked.

His brow furrowed. “No, my father was a lord before he was killed… I guess I was raised as a lord’s son. Why?”

She looked across the black abyss, aboard the ship that housed a sleeping heir, the Iceglider. She looked upon the figure slowly creeping towards Coryn’s current housing, with two blades coloured rust red.

“You still have hope for them.”

*-*-*

The maze was frustrating, Arian. Each way he went, the path forward was blocked off by the hedges, and when he seemed to be making progress, he’d end up at yet another dead end. The next route was the last of the crossroads of seven paths. He’d tried the other five, and each led to anger. This one must be different, he assured himself.

He rounded the corner hurriedly but found nothing but grass and vine again. Had he made a mistake? Had he gone down one of the routes he had explored already? No, surely not. Azura’s trial was like this, made him think it was simple but instead it twisted and toyed with his mind. If he was to succeed in this maze, he needed to outsmart it. “But how?” He asked himself, knowing that time was ticking away.

But as he sat and pondered, the vines began to make their move. They stretched out behind him silently, reaching for the other side, trapping Arian in. He noticed as the two walls touched, and rushed to pull them apart. With all his strength, he slowed it… that’s how he saw it. The next moment, he saw truly what danger lay before him. The vines circled around themselves, weaving together like a common girl’s braids. In the blink of an eye, there were thousands of strands; a blink more, and a face had formed.

Pale, milky white was Arian as the braided monster pulled itself loose from the hedges, forming a complete body as it moved. He shuddered, creeping back. But like a cornered mutt, when it reached out, he bared his fangs. The thunderous blade didn’t cut clean like Azura. The waters of Aurelio’s sword sharpened so thin, they cut through cells. Stormcaller dug in and scorched the skin, leaving little incisions in the deep wound. No, Stormcaller was not for a quick death; it was for mutilation.

The vines split open, vomiting their sap as the air escaped, almost like a gasp. It fell to the ground with only the constricting of a dying body moving it.

Arian breathed in as if he had been holding it in for hours, gasping for breath. His sweat beaded down the thunderblade. The monster was a twitching pile of green and amber on the ground. The secret monster pulling the strings had been defeated, he believed for a moment; all that was left was to find the sword. It gave him that moment but not another. That same sound of vines spiralling around themselves, forming a singular unit, was on the wind. And though he feared to investigate, he saw it around the corner. But this one, this one felt different.

*-*-*

The true-blood Princes were trained swordsmen. They learned the way of the blade ever since they could hold the steel, taught by the finest warriors in the kingdoms. Aurelio and Arian were battle-tested too. Both served in petty wars against petty warriors and slayed their fair share. Until now, Arian had believed he had seen and conquered everything. But men are nought but blood and flesh. Cut them open and they bleed, they cry, and they die.

The ones that faced him in these hedges were not men. If he sliced through them, the vines reattached. If he struck them down with Stormcaller’s magic, they burned, but they moved forward without even a whimper.

“Stay back!” He ordered, waving his sword in the air, “Stay back!”. Alas, it did not stop its march.

Aurelio too, struggled against this foe. Azura’s waters cut cleaner than any other blade, faster as well. It mattered not; the vines continued their pursuit. A dead end stopped his escape, but the blade was swift. Through the head of the first that rounded the corner and dug into the second twice. Before the first two even touched the floor, Azura dismembered the third. Aurelio shifted his weight, he felt a presence behind him, and his sword spun in the moonlight. But suddenly, it stopped. The vines snapped and twisted into form... a form familiar. It mimicked long dark hair, with a slender face and hateful eyes. Short in stature and thin as a board. If it spoke, he’d have heard her voice. If it caressed his cheek with her warmth, he’d have held it in his arms. But it only had her image... it was enough. “Reina.” He gasped.

Arian had run out of steam, only having the energy to lift his sword to chest level. He was only chased by one, and it hobbled around in the form of a dying old man. Arian saw his father. His blade stopped as it sliced shallow, drawing sap. “You will never be King. Aurelio is my true son." It taunted. A second formed and rounded the corner, holding the visage of his late mother. “He killed me, and you couldn’t bear to see him brought down. I never should have had you!”

“shut up”, he cried as he ran from it. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

Tara and Kamau graced Robin with a visit. “I trained you to die. Once this is over, everyone you love will be hunted, all because of you.”

Tara stepped closer whilst the youngest prince collapsed to his rear, retreating into the maze wall frantically yet fruitlessly. “You thought you saved me from the gutters, but it didn’t matter. We’re worthless, Robin. You can wear as much gold as you want, but we will always be pawns in their world. Eventually, we all fall down.” The creature stumbled forward, walking like a mangled corpse reanimated and controlled by another.

“No, you aren’t real! They aren’t here, and they wouldn’t say those things!” Robin cried, holding his eyes shut and drowning out their evil words. It was like a horrible nightmare. The ones he truly cared for had been twisted and spoke deceit, leaving him alone to face the darkness. But Kamau was guarding the Sparrowhawk, and Tara was aboard as well… “it’s not real,” he assured himself.

“it is real, Robin.”

Almost as if it heard his voiceless pleas, as if to mock him. A voice as soft as sunshine. He didn’t need to see it; he knew what faced him, and the tears flowed. His mother crept closer, enclosing him between his past and present. “You can save nothing. You will save no one. This world will watch as the weak and wounded burn…” his heartbeat pounded to the rhythm of his panicked breaths.

It all built to the crescendo of her final words, the aura around them, thick like syrup… “…and they’ll call it justice.”

His heart stopped, all of a sudden, he was gone from the maze. His mind had escaped whilst his body crumpled onto the floor. His consciousness balled itself up tightly, cowering from the pain and fear. Darkness was all there was here. It was like he was surrounded by an unseen monster, circling him, coming in close and clawing at his skin bit by bit.

“We’ll all die!” Kamau spoke like a whip. “Because of you!”

Next came Tara. “You are worthless. And you will die begging.”

“Stop…” he sobbed, holding his hands over his ears. Tears of blood poured from his eyes, and the slick black grew deeper and deeper, coming up to his neck. But when he opened his eyes, they caught on a pinpoint of light in the distance, warm and comforting like a breakthrough of the sun in the night sky. Before he knew it, he was enveloped in its glow, surrounded by the beauty and calm.

“Why do you do this?” He hesitantly asked, but to whom he was unsure.

It was as if he was a separate entity to himself, watching a precious memory. “We can barely afford food for ourselves, but we’re giving it away. Why?” He continued

The light drowned out the silhouette facing him. She was tall and slim, long hair that reached to her elbows clumsily. She smirked as she passed the next faceless soul some scraps.

“There’s always someone less fortunate.” She carried on walking, but he slowed behind her, words in his head that he couldn’t speak and worry written in his eyes.

“but… you have to… with those men, I…” Before he could say the words, she caressed his cheek and gazed into his teary eyes.

“I have you.” Her warm embrace and the features of her face becoming clearer dropped his heart.

“The Kings and Queens won’t help us; it’s up to us to help each other. Scrape two coins together and make a third. Because, eventually, someone will wade through the dirt and pull us out under the sun.” She continued.

“How long until then? How long until we can be free?” He asked her, with innocent hope in his heart.

“A warrior with a pure heart will cut through the darkness. His sword will shine in the light, a beacon of hope for all of us. He will become three and bring this misery to a close.” She told him. “I believe that warrior, to be you.” The surprise silenced him, and his mother planted a kiss upon his forehead. “My little Starling King.”

She walked on, and he held his arm out as she disappeared into the darkness. “Mother.” He called.

Pulled away from his vision, he overlooked the day he and Tara, and all their friends fought away slavers. They had taken hold of one of the more pretty girls, dragging her along, to a pleasure house likely. Tara had led the charge to win her back, with Robin not far behind. Thirty gutter rats fought against two grown scum, and won.

It was the aftermath he remembered fondly. When the girl clung to her sisters and cried hysterically. Other kids, bruised and bleeding, felt teary-eyed because of the pain, but the victory was sweat. Tara was the worst of them; scratches and bruises covered her, dirt clung to her face and dried blood coloured her face. But she looked to the sky, content. “Look around, Robin,” she said. “Remember it.”

“What are you talking about?” He laughed, but she did not; the seriousness did not escape her.

“Every single one of us is weak. And everyone else wants to take away what is ours. But today, we beat them all.” She leaned closer, their faces mere inches away. “No matter what, no one will take from us again. With you at my side, we can be free.”

Once again, his view faded to black. Only lit by three pires of orange, green and blue flame. He spun in the emptiness, watching them flicker. Suddenly, another caught alight, crimson its colour, calm its embers.

“Why do you fight?” It spoke. But Robin could not answer, so it asked again, “Why do you fight?”

“You are the Saviour.” His mother’s voice echoed.

“We can be free.” Then Tara’s.

Fear and anguish held no more power over him and he grasped the necklace his mother bestowed to him.

“Because they need me.” He called.

*-*-*

The darkness was gone and replaced by the walls of the maze. He awoke on the ground, staring at the night sky, his arm outstretched behind him. As he sat up, there was the feeling of something in his hand, heavy and dangerous. He pulled it close.

The light that spoke to him once again, its voice close and quiet. It fit in his hand. The crimson flame took the shape of an emerald iron, sparkling in the moonlight... The lost blade, the last, Glimmer.