The Wyrmslayer and the Fire-Blooded Queen [1x1]

Macy Moretti

Macy Moretti

Princess of Heart, Dumb of Ass
Eight horseshoes clatter against a cobblestone path. A nearby wooden sign creaks in the wind. Four hoofbeats silence while the rider above them reads the sign. The sign reads:

TO THE NORTH - CITY OF TAGNIK'ZUR
TO THE SOUTH - PYRANNY BORDER

The rider snaps his reins and his horse continues northwards along the path. The man riding this horse is Wyrmill Elsore, a famed dragon hunter. In his right hand he holds his staff and in his left are the reins. In the bags his horse is also saddled with carrying are his many tomes of magic.

A few yards back is his apprentice. Wyrmill turns his head around to see her lagging behind. He calls out to her, "Hurry Your steed, Mirakir! We should get to an inn by sundown. Not only do we have to make the journey to the town, but Tagnik'zur is infamous for how difficult it is to navigate."

@KittyRoid​
 
Mirakir sighed dramatically. "I don't like horseback riding. We've been riding all day. My... everything hurts. Look, I want to get there too, but if I ride faster, I'm going to seriously hurt myself. As it is, I don't know if I'll be able to sleep from the pain I'm in. But," -- another sigh -- "I suppose if I don't hurry up I will be punished, hm?" She cocked a challenging eyebrow.
 
Wyrmill slowed his horce' s pace so that his apprentice could catch up. This gave him the opportunity to scold her without straining his voice. Although he spoke softer, his voice was just as raspy as when he yelled.

"You asked me to make you a wizard, not a princess. If you wanted to be treated like a princess, then go marry a prince. Unfortunately for you, the nearest prince is thirty miles up the road. If we don't hurry, then we will be late to meet him and the queen."

The old wizard snapped his reigns and his horse took off at a faster pace once more. He hollered back towards Mirakir, "If you want a more confortable ride, perhaps look in a books for a spell that will make it so! Treat your troubles like a true wizard would!"

If she looked up, Mirakir or would notice a heavy tome traveling in an arc from her master's hand towards her face.​
 
((LOL I like Wyrmill))

"Whoa!" The book nearly hit Mirakir in the face. She managed to catch it and glared daggers into the back of her master's head. "Seriously?" she murmured under her breath, but she did open the book. The horse didn't like it, so he began to weave. Mirakir swore under her breath and tried to manage the book and the horse at the same time. She almost dropped the book several times, but after whispering soothing words in the horse's ear, and explaining that she didn't like it any more than he did, the horse calmed down and Mirakir opened the book.

It was heavy and almost tipped her off the horse, but she gripped with her knees harder and clutched at the book. She peered at the tiny writing on the page that the book had fallen open on. The page was written in both English ((I know England doesn't exist here, so English shouldn't, but I'm wimping out and calling it English)) and the ancient Wizard language that Wyrmill had been trying to teach her for about three years, and she had only started to get the hang of it two months ago, but the writing was so small she could barely read the English. She flipped to another page. THIS was better! English -- in a size she could read! She read a few lines and discovered that it was a spell for making baths more relaxing, and she immediately flipped the page with a shudder. Her brain went in weird places sometimes.

The next page was for making clothes more comfortable. Useful, but not in this instance. Next page. Easier to put on makeup. Weird. Next page. Easier to do hair. Seriously, why did Wyrmill even have this book? Maybe it had some important stuff. Maybe. It could be that the section she was first in -- with the old language... what was it called? and the English -- was important. She doubted writing that small could be about beauty or comfort.

But she was in the beauty and comfort section. Right place. She flipped a few pages. How to smooth out wrinkles. Ugh. Next page. Still beauty stuff. The first spell she had found was about comfort. Maybe that was the right area.

She flipped back to the bath page and, trying not to glance at the bath spell, flipped the page. More comfortable bed. Hm. Closer.

A few more pages later, she found the spell. "Ah!" She read the spell carefully, reached her hand over my horse's head and said the words clearly.

She fell off the horse.

"Oww..." she groaned, rubbing her head as she got up. "What did I do wrong?" she asked her horse, which had stopped a few feet away and was staring at her reprovingly. "Look, it wasn't my fault, okay?" she said to her horse as she walked up to it, picking up the book from where it had fallen. "The spell knocked me off." Then she looked at the book and said some very unladylike things. "Ohhhh no." She held the book in one hand and ran the other through her hair. "Ohhhhhh no." She looked at the book. "This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening."

She gently touched the cracked cover and opened it carefully. Several pages fluttered to the ground. She squeaked in horror and looked at her horse. "I'm dead!"
 
The grand wizard's horse stopped dead in its tracks. With a deep sigh, Wyrmill climbed off his horse and turned to the south to see his apprentice scrambling over the scattered pages of a book.

The daggers that bore into the back of his head were fired back through his eyes, but now the daggers were lit by a burning fire of rage. Although there was a fire in his soul, his steps were cool as ice as he walked.

Gracefully and methodically, with his horse following behind, Wyrmill took a hundred paces to reach Mirakir. With sharp speech, he said, "Mira!"

He swiftly snatched her arm with a grip as strong as steel. He meant no harm, yet the gesture might have felt harmful from his apprentice's perspective. With her arm in his hand, a more gentle touch removed the glove from her hand. The cold winter air nipped at her fingers, but Myrmill's touch loosened.

With a calmer voice, "Every mistake is an opportunity to learn. Some mistakes can only be made once, but a good wizard makes every mistake only once."

The grand wizard set down the glove and helped retrieve what remained of the scattered pages into the book's binding. He then guided her bare hand to the book's cover. "Repeat after me. 'Mend and sew, mend and sew. Fix the damage, make it so.'"​
 
((Ooo! It rhymes! I can't do that...))

Mirikir watched her master's feet approach, cringing at every step. He was walking without anger, but Mira was scared. What would he do to her? She had destroyed one of his precious books. One he had entrusted to her. Her eyes grew hot. Would he hit her? She would deserve it, but she thought she was past that part in her life.

When he said her name, she flinched, squeezed her eyes shut, and turned her head away slightly. He grabbed her arm and she began to shake, but all he did was remove her glove gently. She opened her eyes and frowned, looking at her fingers as they twitched in the cold. She was used to those gloves.

Wyrmill's grip loosened, and he spoke without anger. She stared up into his eyes, them widened at each word. She wasn't going to be punished?

Wyrmill set the glove on the saddle of her horse and picked up the pages from the ground. She watched with growing fear as he stood again, slipping the pages back inside. Her took her hand and she jerked away, but what he said not only surprised her as he pressed her hand to the broken cover of the book, but encouraged her. She looked into his eyes, then smiled shyly. "I can fix it?" she asked in a whisper.

She closed her eyes in concentration and repeated the words in a slightly shaky voice. Immediately she felt shifting under her hand and her eyes popped open. She watched the crack in the cover seal in delight, felt the book open slightly for the pages to shoot out, resort themselves, slip back into the book with a slight rustling.

Her eyes leaped up to her master's, a brilliant smile stretching her cheeks. "I did it," she breathed. "I did it!" she repeated joyfully and did a little dance, her hood dancing. When she stopped she leaned forward slightly, her hands splayed out at her hips and said in a rush, "I thought you were going to punish me! But you didn't! I'm so surprised! I mean, I deserved to be punished, breaking your book and all, but you didn't even hit me! Oh, thank you!" She jumped as high as she could, clapping her hands together at the peak.
 
"You're eighteen, Miss Silverstone. Hardly young enough to recieve a beating. At this point in your life, all that would do is probably knock out what little sense you have left in that head of yours. Apollo knows that we need all of the room we need if you're going to learn Magetongue."
Magetongue is what I'm calling the ancient tongue that Mira saw in the book.

As Wyrmill spoke, he climbed back onto his horse and motioned for Mirakir to do the same.

"Try it again before putting the glove on this time. I have faith in you. True wizards only make mistakes once."​
 
Mirikir nodded seriously, but her eyes belied a different message. She tried to reach for her horse, but he shied away, looking nervous. "Oh dear." She reached out her hand to the horse. "It's okay, Stormfeather, I'm not going to fall again. I'm sorry about that, really I am. It isn't going to happen again. I know what I did wrong." She shot a grateful look in her master's direction. "It won't happen again." She twiddled her fingers and said coaxingly: "come on, Stormy. I'll give you an apple..."

She smiled as the horse whinnied and trotted back to her. She reached into her pack and pulled out a slightly bruised apple. Stormfeather looked at her balefully. "Look, that's what happens when you fall of a horse: you destroy one of your master's books, and you bruise apples. Take it, or leave it. There won't be another." Stormfeather seemed to consider this, then he stretched out his beautiful neck and took the apple from her hand, his bristly muzzle tickling Mirikir's palm.

"Okay, then." Mirikir grabbed the saddle of her steed, pulled herself up onto its wide back, nudged him with her feet, and opened the book. It didn't take long to find the correct spell. She smiled, stretched out her hand, and repeated the words that she had spoken earlier. Her body tensed subconsciously for a moment until she felt a lightness under her seat. She twisted around carefully to look at her saddle, but could find nothing to make it different. She shrugged and thought, magic. I guess it just happens without reason. Then she realized how silly her thought was, since that was really the basic principle of magic. Magic does things beyond reason. Hadn't she been told that a thousand times? She guessed it only really took hold once she had had a real life experience.

She closed the book, kicked Stormfeather again and picked up speed until she was beside Wrymill. "How much longer do you think it will take?"
 
"Another three hours, at least. But we must get there today. And when we get to the inn, please do get some sleep. If you don't get up on time tomorrow morning then I will have to punish you. You can never be late for a meeting with royalty."

Meanwhile, in the castle overlooking the city of Tagnik'zur, the crown prince rested his head upon a windowsill. He gazed longingly at the sky. He reached his hand out through the window, grasping at the cold winter air. He could feel the freedom of dragon flight slip through his fingers.

With a cold sigh, he removed a circle of gold that sat upon his head. It wasnt as gaudy as a king's crown, buy ut was flashy enough for him to dislike it. His head was always held lower whenever he had to wear it.

As far as the prince, Oriqwen, knew, he was alone in his room. However, he was always worried that his mother would develop a habit of sneaking into his room. Dragons did hold powerful magic, and sneaking silently into a guarded room woyld be far too easy of a feat.​
 
That night Mirikir tried that spell about making her bed more comfortable and slept like a baby until Wyrmill started pounding on her door, yelling about being late. Mirikir got together in record time. She stripped off her nightgown so quickly that it got tangled around her wrists and she yelped in pain. She didn't give herself any time to be in pain as she whipped on her apprentice mage suit and tore open the door, her hood drooping over one arm and her shoes on the wrong feet. She hadn't even brushed her hair.

"No time for breakfast! Let's go!" She tugged on her master's sleeve and tore down the corridor.

-----------------------------------------

As Mirikir and her master approached the gates of the castle, Miri's jaw dropped and the stared up at the towering edifice. She had only ever seen a building this huge -- the mage headquarters in Hallotu -- and it hadn't been this ornate. Dozens of towers topped with flags with the crest of the kingdom teased the sky, each made of shining white stone with a huge band of scarlet bricks at the top and blue bricks at the base where it disappeared into the castle. A interchanging grid of two rows made of blue and green stones circled the middle of each tower. Grand windows were everywhere, and gold and silver banners flapped on the towers over the arch they were passing under. On the ground green and blue bricks interchanged on an arch around the enormous arching gate that welcomed them through into a courtyard in front of the main building.

Two servants immediately raced forward to hold their horses as the two riders dismounted. Mirikir patted Stormbringer distractedly as he was lead away. Her attention was devoted to everything around her. Above the edges of the courtyard stone corridors reached across to the main castle. Every couple of yards there was a floor to ceiling window that looked out into the courtyard. Banners of gold, silver, red, blue, green, and purple hung between the windows all carrying the kingdom's crest, which was a silver dragon on a black background. More arching doorways led off from the courtyard down stone corridors that Mirikir couldn't see the end of.

Another servant rushed up to Wyrmill. He bowed deeply. "Great Mage Wyrmill, you are welcome. You and your..." he frowned at Mirikir. Miri frowned back.

"I'm his apprentice," she said firmly.

"Ah, yes, of course." The servant bowed slightly in Mirikir'r direction, then turned back to her master, his eyes shining.

"Our mighty Queen is prepared to meet you. Follow me." And the servant walked off with a flat, boring step. He didn't even glance at the two door guards and they swung the double-sided door open. Mirikir smiled at the left one. The man, you could have only been a few years older than her, ducked his head and didn't respond. Mirikir walked on, determined to befriend that man.

The servant led them through corridor after corridor, each so tall a giant could have easily fit through. Had one ever had? More windows lined the walls, and more banners and shields rotated between them. Finally the servant stopped in front of a door even taller than the gate that had welcomed them. It was intricately carved with jewels and gold outlining important things, but the doors were opened too quickly for Mirikir to really see anything.

The throne room was warm. A little strange, because the room was the largest yet, and the sunlight from the eastern facing windows didn't seem to bring any warm. But it was snuggly warm and Mirikir smiled. Then her eyes locked on the woman sitting at the far end of the room.

She was dressed all in green, every shade of green. Her dress was low-cut and had no sleeves other than a breezy, sheer scarf wrapped around her shoulders. Her hair was red and fell over her shoulder, loose and glamorous for a queen. A towering headdress balanced somehow on her head, dripping with beads and green jewels that looked like more than emeralds, and topped with thick, curling spikes gently twisting toward the same point at the slight left of the top. Her dress drooped on the floor, weaved with streaks of silver and gold among the threads of every shade of green that blended together perfectly. It, too, was ornate with beads and swirls.

She leaned gracefully in her throne, obviously comfortable with being in charge and expecting it from everyone. She looked down at them from the dais under heavy eyelids. Slowly she reached out one pure white arm, extended with one flawless finger, and crooked it, her pointed nail suddenly the most obvious thing about her appearance.

"You may approach," she said in a rich voice that carried authority and a slight rasp at the end.
 
Wyrmill stepped up to the foot of her throne and bent down on one knee. His head tilted towards the floor, and he motioned for his apprentice to bow or curtsey as well. He said, "Your Highness, it is an honor to be here in your kingdom. Thank you for your hospitality. I'm here at the request of the king of Pyranny to search for a particular vermin that could be plaguing your land."​
 
Mirikir quickly trotted forward to stand by her master, her footsteps echoing terribly on the flagstones. She curtsied, but her eyes were drifting the room. Many guards were stationed around the room, as though in prepare for vicious foes that would come disguised under garbs of silk or rags. Finally her eyes settled on the smaller throne next to the Queen's. A boy was there, with thick black hair that drifted around his face and into his eyes, which were pale grey. He wasn't smiling.

The Queen looked down at Wyrmill and laughed. "A vermin?" she called merrily. "What vermin would dare to plague my land?"
 
Wyrmill raised his head to speak clearer to the queen, but kept his body low to the ground. "A terrible creature known as a dragon. They have powerful magic that allows them to hide among men. They are known to disguise themselves as members of a normal race until they have an opportunity to cause chaos. If you would grant me the freedom, then I can search your town for any signs of the creatures. Eliminating them is my duty."

The dark-haired prince locked eyes with Mirikir. His somber expression didn't change much until the word "dragon" appeared in conversation. Hearing the word widened his eyes and quickened the beating of his heart. The prince was close to brewking a sweat. Mirikir could possibly catch the glimps of fear in his eyes.​
 
The Queen tensed, but her words were still amiable. She sounded disbelieving. "A dragon?" she chuckled. "I have heard of such monstrosities, but I believe my are a myth. I carry them upon my shield," she gestured at a wall, "but that is because they carry great power. And you are a dragonslayer? It must be rather straining, looking for creatures that can slip through your fingers as though they never existed, hm?" Her eyes glinted. She was silent for a moment, then said, "very well. You have my blessing. You may search the town, the fields, whatever you wish, but not," her voice hardened, "the castle. I won't have a clumsy fool who is chasing a myth to disrupt the order of my castle. You may stay here, though. You are a fool, but such a high mage should not be sent to sleep with the commoners."

Mirikir smiled at the boy, who she figured was the Prince, but instead of smiling back, he tensed and sort of... shrank back in his silver throne. She moved her head a bit to catch a glimpse of his eyes, and what she saw could only be described as the look of a trapped animal. What had she done wrong? Then she noticed she hadn't been paying attention to the conversation, because her master was standing and saying something. What had she missed? Was it anything important?
 
"Thank you very much, Your Highness," Wyrmill said as he rose to his feet, "But I assure you I am not a fool. Dragons, while rare, are certainly real." As a sign of proof, Wyrmill reachedinto a pocket within his cloak and produced a silver scale. A stray sunbeam entered through the window and bounced off the scale. It shone with a silver gleam that matched the color of Oriqwen's eyes. He quickly put the scale back into his pocket.

"However, I may not find any here. Your kingdom appears well defended. You run it well. As soon as I finish my search, if none are here, then I will prepare to leave. Your castle looks so well fortified, I feel no need to search it. What needs to be searched is the nooks and crannies of this town, and I shall begin searching immediately. Thank you for your time and blessing. Come, Mirikir."

The wizard turned to his apprentice and found her smiling at the prince. He grabbed her by the hood and began pulling her towards the entrance to the throne room.

"Lust is a fatal sin for wizards, Mira. Plus, you're going to bore a hole into the poor prince's head with that stare. If you're desparate to meet him, it can wait until dinner. We have work to do."


As the grand wizard dragged his apprentice out by the hood, the timid prince Oriqwen spoke to his mothwr in a hushed voice, "Mother, that man doesn't truly kill dragons, does he?"


​
 
When the Queen's (I don't even remember her name...) eyes caught on the scale, she froze, her nostrils flaring and she inhaled sharply. A scale of her kin. How dare that man carry it. She would have him disposed of. Quietly, as though it were an accident, but that man would die.

Mirikir stumbled, trying to catch her feet as her master tugged her along. "Lust? Wh-what?" She blushed. "I was just wondering why he wasn't smiling. He seemed very shy." She tried to glance behind her as she was pulled along. "I want to become his friend. I think he needs a friend. I didn't..." she blushed again and wrinkled her nose. "I didn't even notice anything." Yet as she spoke her mind drifted over the Prince's luscious-looking hair and handsome grey eyes, so large on his face. Okay, okay, so he was attractive, but all she had thought about was about making him smile. She made a little noise that could have meant many things.

The Queen's green eyes shot to her son's and they were filled with silent rage. "That scale was not fake, as much as we want it to be. He will find nothing, though. I will protect you." She reached out a hand and tenderly stroked his cheek. "Worry of nothing. It is late, you should rest."
 
"But Mother, it isn't even noon. I don't..." Oriqwen began to say before his brain caught up woth his mouth. He realized that his mother had some sort of plan. Th queen had protected him so far. Disobeying her would be unwise.

"I see. I'll be in my room. Can one of the servants bring my lunch up there later?" Oriqwen asked before before returning to his room.



Once the pair of wizards were out of thw castle, and out of earshot of the queen, Wyrmill began to explain.

"Mirikir, there is no being his friend. There is no searching the towm, either. I already know exactly where two dragons are. The queen, Taimattus, and her son, Oriqwen, are... They are our generous hosts, and for now we should act as such."​
 
((OH. IT'S MORNING. GOOD CATCH. THANKS~))

Taimattus smiled and nodded. "Of course, my son. And you may have your personal servant sit with you. Just do not leave your room. Do you understand?"



It took a moment for Mirikir to process this incredible statement. "They're the dragons? But they seemed so nice! And they are royalty!" she added the last bit, almost as an afterthought. "We can't hunt them! We'd be killed! Besides, they are too well protected. And if all you said about dragons in real, then even if they didn't have an army, and castle, and really complicated passageways, there are two of them! Wyrmill," began Mirikir, forgetting to call him by his title, as she should, "we couldn't kill them! Even if Oriqwen is young, he's still a dragon! They can..." she waved in her hands in the air wildly to indicate power, "do so much! If it was one, I was going to leave it to you; you've dealt with them before. But two? How the hell are we supposed to deal with two?"
 
"Clear as crystal, Mother," Oriqwen said as he returned to his room.



Wyrmill placed a hand on Mirikir's shoulder to hush her. Gently, he pushed her alomg, guiding her through the streets of the town. "For now, we do our job. We search for dragons among the city. Bide our time. We know they're dragons, but they don't know that. We can surprise them."

He released Mirikir and stroked his chin. "She can't kill us right away. That would draw suspicion. And we can't return to the castle until it is time for us to have dinner and bed, as the queen forbid us from searching it. It's safe and necesssry for us to search the town. There may still be a dragon within the city, though I find that unlikely."

The grand wizard began shuffling through his bag and produced one of the ancient tomes of magic. After rifling through the pages, he found a page of spells written in the ancient tongue that Mirikir could not read. His eyes moused over the text and his brow furrowed. He pulled a small sack of coins from his bag.

"Mira, it's time for you to do some shopping. We will need salt, flasks, ingredients for potions, and a couple of daggers. I can't draw the queen out for a large fight, so we will have to take her out in her human form, as well as defend ourselves. I trust you can get these supplies?"​
 
Armant was already in the Prince's chambers when Oriqwen came in. Armant stood from looking under the bed for something and turned around to look at his friend. "Hey, man," he said cheerfully. Then he frowned, noticing Oriqwen's face. "What's the matter?"


((Is the 'man' too much? Not good for a fantasy time? I know you guys do that to your friends, and it fits Armant's character so...))




Mirikir barely listened as Wrymill told her what to buy. She was looking at the coin purse. When she took it from his hands a thrill ran through her. Money! In her hand! Wow! Her eyes snapped up and she found herself nodded. "Yes, sir. You can trust me!" She turned around and headed for the market, which location her scatterbrained mind had picked up on in all her outburst about the dragons right inside the castle. She turned down the street and was almost blown away by the load of sounds and smells. "Wow..." she breathed, then stepped into the world of commerce.

At first she just wandered around, taking everything in. After about an hour, however, she did remember her quest and started to search. She remembered everything she was supposed to buy, which was a miracle, and she was surprisingly good at haggling, so when she left the market several hours later she was feeling proud of herself. She hadn't even bought herself anything! Her master could trust her!

But it was at that moment that her eyes fell on the castle and she tilted her head to one side, a plan forming amidst her curious thoughts. She hurried to the inn Wyrmill had told her to go to. When she got inside she looked around. There he was, off to the side. She almost ran over to him and clunked the purchases on the table. "CanIgoonawalk?" she said in a rush, then ran out of the inn before Wyrmill could reply.

She sprinted to the edge of the castle, then bit her lip, looking at the wall. Yeah, she could climb that... The sun was setting, and the wall was in shadow. She took off her hood, tucked it into a bush, looked around, then started on the wall.
 
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