Year of 1209
While Illaria was nervous about her journey Westwards with Prince Marcus a strange sense of excitement brewed in her. They had covertly made an exit from the main group and were now traversing a separate route to infiltrate the West. Illaria and Marcus traveled three days on horseback with minimal breaks across the plains of the Southern Kingdom to reach the base of the Mountain Peaks of Ishtaar. Mountain Peaks of Ishtaar had one of the deadliest terrain, sharp rocky mountains where one misstep would mean death. They carefully navigated across as they finally reached some of the lower peaks. The lower peaks were much greener and covered in a thick forest. That air was filled with the scent of wild herbs and the distant hum of wild creatures lurking in the woods. But for now, it wasn’t war or fear that occupied Illaria’s mind—it was something far simpler. The fun of a journey.
Marcus walked a few steps ahead, cutting through the green with Iceblade slung lazily across his back, humming some ridiculous tune that he claimed was popular in the North. Illaria rolled her eyes for the sixteenth time.
“First some crazy story about how you almost lost an arm when you were five, then the incident of swallowing some magic gum, and now singing, You really can’t stay shut for a single second, can you?” she muttered.
Marcus grinned. “I enjoy living, Princess. You should try it sometime.”
That earned him a glare. But it softened when he picked a rare fruit from the forest for her. “It’s sweet. Try it.” She took it reluctantly, and threw the leftover pulp at him moments later. It hit his shoulder and slid down, sticky and pink.
Marcus blinked. “What is this behavior Princess?”
“I don’t know, my brain just said to do it. There is no logic” she replied with a tiny smirk. “Well that’s what you get for blabbering so much. Logic has left my brain.”
He looked at her, utterly surprised at the sudden change in her icy demeanor. “My god, my constant yap caused the Princess Ice to melt a bit. I am amazing.”
He laughed—a genuine, ringing sound that startled her. It wasn’t the laugh of Prince of the North or a calculative strategist; it was just Marcus. Being with him blood and kingdom politics vanished into thin air.
As the days turned from dawn to dusk, they spoke less and more, Marcus less, Illaria more.
Marcus told her his tale of hunting Glacethorn of Icicles - a colossal, mystical unicorn whose horn was a razor-sharp icicle. It was found in icy plains and ridges that were further up the Northern kingdom. No one knew what lay beyond the endless white. Marcus ranted about how he had begged his dad to let him go explore – but his dad didn’t budge. No expedition till date had found something meaningful or if they did, they couldn’t come back to tell the tale.
Illaria told him about her years as the mayor —how she wanted to join the army but her dad wouldn't budge either so she did what she could – set up a small army, and fight crime in cities inside the Southern Kingdom.
“I’m impressed,” Marcus said quietly. “You actually care about people.”
“I am the Princess, if I won’t then who will?” she replied with a small smile. The words were heavier than she meant.
Something shifted. The warm moment soon turned cold as Marcus replied in a serious tone, “Princess, once we cross into the West, you’ll see things you won’t like. Things that are not there in the Southern Kingdom. But you cannot react and you can’t lose control.”
She scoffed. “You think I don’t know how to control myself?”
“You think you do. But I think you are either too emotional or just no emotion.”
She shot him an icy look, “Talk more like that and I will go back to ‘Ice Princess’ you just melted.”
“Fine, Fine. Anyways rest well, tomorrow we will make our last ascent to meet the point from where Ameys descends into the main city. The water is rough, you will need a lot of Auren to control your body as we flow along the current.” Marcus said softly.
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“Okay, Good Night.”
They started the next day at dawn itself and by noon they were already atop the cliff in front of a super steep waterfall. The sound of gushing water filled the air. Looking down, it was quite a deep drop.
Illaria took a step forward. The mist touched her skin, and irritated her skin a bit. “Marcus, that person you sent down this waterfall years ago, don’t you think he might not have made it? This drop isn’t something a normal human being can survive.”
“Well he said he was a warrior too, just not a good one. But c’mon we easily can, don’t be scared. Just follow my leap.”
“You mean lead –” but no, he meant leap, because this idiot had already leaped forward and jumped just like that. No planning, discussion, strategy in case they got separated.
“Ugh, how reckless, I am coming too.” and with that Illaria also jumped. She could feel herself falling down at an alarming rate but she pushed herself backwards so her body was now in the water. She applied her Auren energy to slow down her descent but she could feel something was wrong.
“Kaboom” as she reached the bottom, she felt deep into the water which was now quite still but quite deep. Illaria suffered a small cut on her arm from a sharp rocky edge, but it was a small injury, so she slowly swam her way back to the surface. As she broke on the surface, she saw Marcus was already sitting by the edge as he gave her a warm smile. His smile turned into worry under a split second though. Illaria realised she was not moving forward towards the shore but rather she was drowning. For some reason her hands and legs won't move.
“Marcus—” she gasped, stumbling. Her breath came ragged, her limbs locking. The world blurred.
Marcus dived into the water, pulled her out and laid her on the floor. Her body was now completely paralyzed. But Marcus’s troubles were just beginning. As he was still shouting her name asking her if she was okay, from the corner of her eye, Illaria saw ripples in the water. First small, then huge. A shadow rose from the water—a Banshee. Things suddenly clicked. Banshee’s poison must have paralyzed her as soon as she had consumed some water and the blood from her cut had lured the Banshee here. Marcus not being affected was still a mystery to her.
Marcus drew his sword. Illaria couldn’t tell how long the battle lasted. She just watched as Marcus was weaving strikes, the creature’s wails echoing in her skull.
When silence finally returned, she could barely breathe. Marcus knelt beside her, panic flickering across his face.
“Princess, you are burning up. Did you never inject poison in small quantities to build resistance?”
“No, You are crazy.” Illaria let out a weak mutter.
“Banshee’s poison requires an exotic antidote. Even if I somehow manage to find all the ingredients from the forest, it requires proper brewing.” he was at a loss of words.
A rustle came from behind. “She will die within the next twenty minutes.”
Marcus spun, Iceblade raised. Two figures stepped out of the forest. They looked like warriors. Not good.
One of them moved forward and said, “You’ll tell me who you are, stranger. Now.”
Marcus ignored the question and turned back to Illaria. He cupped her cheek with one hand, as if desperately wanting to save her. For him, fighting two strangers was no big deal. The idea of losing his partner before their mission even began due to an idea he only had suggested was eating Marcus inside.
The other one said, “Maybe you don’t find us worth your attention but this is certainly.” he said, as he took out a small bottle. “The antidote to cure your lover. But you must tell us–”
Marcus’s eyes had opened wide at the mention of antidote. There was no warning, he had already charged ahead at the man holding the antidote with a pure kill intent. He was not going to let Illaria die.
However, as Marcus attacked, the other man tried to block. Marcus tried to side-cross him but everything was so quick that in the motion, a strike caught Marcus’s sleeve, slicing it open. Something fell—the golden lion badge now lay in between Marcus and the two strangers.
Both men froze for a split second. Finally, the one holding the antidote said, “You are the person who saved my life years ago.”
Marcus didn’t answer.
Amarin lowered his own blade. “You threw me down this exact waterfall years ago. Rigor, stand down. He’s not an enemy. This is the guy who saved me.”
Rigor hesitated but obeyed, though his stance remained guarded. Amarin stepped closer, glancing at paralyzed Illaria, then back at Marcus. “Aren’t you Princess Marcus of Northern Kingdom? We don’t have to fight, and we can save your girl.”
Realising his cover was anyways blown, Marcus finally relaxed a bit as he said with a small, nostalgic smile, “You weren’t the best fighter but you always had a mind sharper than most swords. I suppose that hasn’t changed. Your friend here, though , has impressive skills.” Marcus replied, eyeing Rigor.
Amarin continued, “Well let’s give her the antidote first. We can talk then.” Amarin bent down and poured the antidote in Illaria’s mouth. As soon as it touched her stomach, Illaria instantly started regaining her strength. She sat up and could move her body much better now. Marcus let out a sigh of relief.
Amarin continued, “And given this one probably came down the waterfall, her rate of recovery from a Banshee’s poison, a proper blade she must be an Auren energy user too. But given her golden hair colour, she’s not from North or West, has to be from South. A Northern Prince travelling with a strong southern lady. Are you Princess Illaria Longsword of the South?”
Illaria was startled. Amarin clearly was gifted with tactical abilities. She replied, “Thank you for saving my life. And you are right. Since you already deciphered so much, why don’t you take a guess as to our reason for being here?”
Amarin, “Easy. You’re here for what’s happening in the West, aren’t you? A kingdom with no chance of winning is preparing to go on a war. We’ve been trying to understand it too. To be honest, we are as lost as you guys. Something dark is spreading—something unnatural.”
Rigor nodded grimly. “Yes. This is a rather strange turn of events. But let’s talk at an inn. The forest is not friendly at night. Also we need to do something about your golden-hair, we can't attract attention. Here, wear this cloak till we find you a dye in the city.”
Illaria swiftly put on the cloak. Marcus sighed and nodded once. “Yes, let’s move.”
The four of them make their way towards the dimly lit village at the edge of the West, to the city of Tyria. The waterfall behind whispered endlessly—as if it knew that what lay ahead would not just test their strength, but the fragile threads that still tied their fates together.