Dragons Take a Princess Short Story Box Set Page 6

  Chapter Three

  For the next few weeks, Esmer adapted to her new life as a dragon's princess. She took to all her chores with a lusty enthusiasm that greatly disturbed all the other dragons in the vicinity, and she often heard them muttering, “unnatural,” when they passed her. Her limited eight food wonder dish gained popularity with Gerran and some of his closest friends, and he grew confident and cheerful of inviting them over to his abode to try out Esmer's steaks or potato bake dishes. It seemed to be quite the novelty to have a princess that actually knew how to bake things.

  The other dragons spoke out their concern as well when Esmer was allowed to go wandering around the prince's residence and out onto the streets. Several had even stopped her, thinking she might be escaping, and she needed to explain to them, over and over that she wasn't escaping, just walking around.

  It became frustrating after a bit, because no one wanted to believe her. Even the other princesses currently captured by dragons seemed to think Esmer might be possessed by demons or something, because they didn't understand how she liked being a dragon's princess.

  “It's easy,” she explained to one green eyed princess known as Otera, clearly growing out her hair to try and use it to break out her tower at a point, “because I hated life back in Naterus. My mother was going to marry me to some pimply prince, and that wasn't for me.”

  “But you should want to be married to a prince!” Otera blinked her fabulously long eyelashes, her pretty face agape in horror. “That's unheard of! No one wants to run away to avoid being married!”

  “I did,” Esmer said, suppressing the sigh that threatened to come out, along with the urge to roll her eyes and possibly strangle Otera. Most princesses held that same, air head quality that princes found so endearing, for some reason. It made Esmer seriously contemplate homicide to encounter it.

  Gerran, of course, loved the attention she created. For him, Esmer suspected, she was a novelty, a highly unusual creature that only came across the dragons once in a blue moon, though there had been tales before of princesses actively choosing to be a dragon's princess over life in the hundred kingdoms. Alright to hear about them, something else to witness it in person.

  Gerran kept his cool, even when the first of the Questers started coming. To date, Esmer watched him fight three knights, one ice mage, and a band of five with conveniently balanced abilities, from a warrior to a healer to a ranger. Thanks to Gerran's Idol of Despair, a particularly powerful witch enchantment that the Questers unfortunately hadn't received the antidote for, Gerran thrashed them all quite admirably.

  One time, he showed Esmer his collection of enchantments, and Esmer simply sat there, impressed, as the noble faced prince took out the objects from his hoard one by one. “I have a Cloak of Illusion. Perfect for sneaking around, though people tend to look down on you if you resort to trickery in these places. Got it for a spell from a swamp witch. And then there's the Dragon Horn. The human kingdom of Vrytal, hundreds of years ago, possessed this, but they didn't read the fine print that stated that the dragons you can summon with it may not necessarily obey your commands. As of now, Vrytal is the second dragon kingdom in the Wilderness.”

  Esmer listened to this with her lips curled in faint amusement. She pictured some hapless prince blowing on the horn, and then a great swarm of dragons bombarding their kingdom moments later, summoned by the power of the artefact.

  “This is a Genie bottle, here. But you can't open it, because someone wished for the Genie to be sealed so tightly that no one can ever release them again. Shame, I would have liked my three wishes.”

  He casually handed Esmer the bottle, with the stopper in it, and two eyes squashed against the glass, looking rather pissed off. She tapped it, and the eyes blinked.

  “The Cauldron of Endless Food is a truly remarkable enchantment, though there's an inherent design flaw in that it just won't stop producing the food you ask it to.” Gerran indicated a shiny black cauldron perched on a table, hissing softly. “I'm planning to go on an artefact hunt. You're welcome to come along with me, since I'll be visiting a witch along the way. You wanted magic lessons, right?”

  “Right!” Esmer immediately snapped to attention, quivering in excitement. “But are you sure I can come along? I'm not exactly a fighter or anything of the sort.”

  “Ah, that's nothing. I can gear you up in some of the gear we have here.” Gerran smiled eagerly at her, before he rummaged through the glimmering treasure pile, gold coins spraying everywhere. The shower of gold meant nothing to Esmer, she saw enough of it in the royal treasuries. Gerran acted more like a big kid, playing with his treasures, and he threw out objects towards Esmer's feet.

  Within moments, Esmer was wearing a ring of strength, designed to boost her physical power beyond ordinary princessy means, boots of speed for increasing her average running speed, an amulet of protection against most conventional attacks, anti-curse earrings and a Sword of Slaying, which apparently enhanced her combat skill.

  In short, she felt enormously boosted by the offerings.

  “A good Quester would have similar items,” Gerran murmured, as he fished out one more thing. “This ring, as well. It's a teleport, currently fixed onto my front doorstep. I have one as well,” he said, displaying his own teleport ring. Esmer couldn't help but notice how he wore it on his left hand, fourth finger, and wondered if he knew the symbolism behind it. She slid the ring onto her thumb, the only thing big enough to hold it.

  “Are you that sure I'm not going to run away?” Esmer teased, smiling at Gerran as he stepped back to admire her new enchantments. In response, Gerran approached her, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

  “I'm sure.”

  Esmer's brain shut down. Her mouth opened and closed as the prince winked, then departed the treasure room, leaving her in a near comatose state.

  What?

  Her heart sped up to almost triple the pace. Strange, floaty gooey things stirred in her. And then there was that odd effect in her stomach. People described it as butterflies, but it felt more like a a flock of bees buzzing in there. Oh my.

  He was that confident, was he? That she'd be some common girl, quick and easy to become besotted with whoever showed her the slightest bit of affection?

  She stared at the ring for a long time, rolling it around on her thumb, mind still drifting to the cloud, when she finally left the room, and it sealed itself shut.

  I can't believe he just did that. Like, there wasn't even any build up! He just kissed me on the lips like someone tripping me up on the street. What the blasts?

  She drew out the Sword of Slaying from its sheath and examined the fine, glimmering gold blade. Gerran stood on the other side of his chambers, and he raised an eyebrow, before grabbing a sword of his own and approaching her.

  “Let's get you warmed up with your new items, first, princess.” He struck a pose, and Esmer bowed awkwardly, feeling foolish. However, when Gerran lashed out, she found the sword instantly responding in her hand, as if it had a mind of her own, to block his blow. Still controlled by the sword, Esmer took a few steps forward, her speed boosted, her strength enhanced, and Gerran swerved out of the way so that she hacked clean through his leather sofa.

  “Oh no! I'm so sorry!” Esmer spun on the spot, still unable to control herself, as the sword sought him out again. Gerran blocked blow after blow, neatly stepping away when her enhanced strength imbued itself into the attacks, laughing at her dismay.

  “You can switch it off. Just concentrate on not wanting to fight and you'll stop hacking away. I do uh,” he said, after avoiding another slash from Esmer, “recommend placing it back in the sheath. It's quite trigger happy.”

  “Oh,” Esmer squeaked, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to stop trying to kill Gerran. The sword dipped, no longer fuelling her limbs, and she hastily shoved it back in the sheath. “That's such a cheat. Who needs years of training when you can have this do everything for you?”

  “They're not easy t
o come by,” Gerran said, noting her flushed face, her deep breathing, her heaving chest. “And generally you'll find they come with the soul of a swordmaster in them. This one doesn't talk, but some do.”

  Esmer placed her hands on her knees for a moment, and Gerran laughed again, placing a hand on her shoulder. “How did you feel?”

  “I don't know,” Esmer said honestly. “I don't usually go around trying to kill people.”

  “Uh huh. Look, I think you have something here...” Gerran said, pointing his finger to her chest. Esmer looked down, and Gerran flicked her nose.

  “Oh, for God's sake!”

  “Got you.” He winked, and left the room, leaving Esmer even more irritated. This wasn't the first time she'd been caught out by his random trick, and yet she still kept falling for it. Every time. It didn't even make sense. He just pointed to her, she looked, and then he flicked her, and always acted like he pulled off some excellent trick.

  Shaking her head, she went to get something to eat from the kitchens, preparing herself for the trip, and possibly her first magic lesson.

  Chapter Four

  It didn't take long for them to fly away from High Roost, away from the grand, spiralling buildings and elegantly carved stone castles, to land in the Forest of Spells. The Wilderness held many places like this – magically enchanted areas which hosted a lot of artefacts, spells and witches, along with a fair share of monsters for Questers to defeat.

  “This one is near to the Dark Clans,” Gerran informed her, as he plodded along in dragon form, preferring the protection of his scales in the dense woodland. His feet crunched into grass and soil, and Esmer preferred to walk alongside him, easily keeping up with her boots of speed.

  “What are the Dark Clans?” Esmer asked. Everyone knew about them growing up, but little information came to her in the form of who ran the clans, and what purpose they held.”

  “Usually rogue societies,” Gerran said. “Humans who live in the Wilderness, pilfering from the kingdoms and selling to monsters, or monsters who have decided to throw in their lot with the clans. I don't know a great deal about them myself, but it's a lawless place. Not somewhere where you want to be found in the territory of.”

  Esmer nodded, taking in the information, whilst keeping her eyes peeled for danger in the terrain. She knew that enchanted places in the Wilderness tended to be dangerous and monsters existed everywhere, seeking opportunities to grab unsuspecting princesses and drag them to unpleasant fates. Gerran seemed unconcerned about this, though he warned Esmer off the path once when there was a nice old lady on the side selling cupcakes.

  “Come to me to my house, I have more delicious cupcakes for you,” the lady in the black hood declared. A beautiful, golden house shimmered on the side, and the cupcakes looked delicious and filling.

  “Don't,” Gerran advised. “This is a classic bait. You'll be in her oven and turned into a cupcake in moments.”

  “Uh,” Esmer said, smiling at the hooded woman before shuffling past her. They passed one other woman selling red apples, which Gerran informed her were likely Eternal Sleep apples, and a small frog hopped up to her from a river they trekked past, asking to be kissed so she could break the curse. The little frog even puckered his lips, waiting for the princess kiss.

  “It's not a prince. It's a reverse curse,” Gerran said, sounding rather bored as the frog spat curses at him, before sinking into the river.

  How many more events am I going to encounter, here? The dragon hesitated once at a monster guarding a bridge, who demanded they stop and fight him in combat if they wanted to pass.

  “I have wings,” Gerran said. “I could just fly over right now and you wouldn't be able to stop me.”

  The troll guarding the bridge, with his huge head of hair and glowing orange eyes, brandished his club menacingly. “If you don't fight me, you'll be cursed forever!”

  “Okay, then,” Gerran said, promptly eating the troll in one bite. He let out a burp. “I like to give them a chance. Don't worry, there'll be another troll guardian here before long... they breed like crazy.” He licked his scaly lips, before ambling over the bridge, and Esmer shrugged, following after him.

  “You're so, well, casual about this. Why aren't you alarmed?”

  “It's a normal part of living in the Wilderness, princess. Be careful, there's goblins to your left in the bushes. If you make eye contact with them, they'll be on you in moments. So just focus on the road.”

  Esmer kept her eyes firmly fixed on the ground, beats of nervous sweat forming on her head, watching as her skirts and boots accumulated dirt. She wore casual fur robes today, and sometimes her breath unfurled in the cold air, adding to the mystery of the place.

  “Why can't we just fly to the witch?”

  “She has disorientation enchantments from the air. We have to reach her by foot. Don't worry. We'll be there soon. And oh, be careful, that may look like a harmless furball, but it has huge teeth.”

  He indicated a small, fuzzy yellow creature. Esmer stared at it for a moment, before a mouse skittered in front of it. The furball split open to reveal a serrated mouth of teeth, and clamped down on the mouse.

  “Wow,” Esmer said. “I'm starting to see why humans prefer living in the kingdoms.”

  Gerran chuckled, his tail swishing. A few moments later, and several more perils averted, they finally arrived at a small hut in the middle of a boggy, putrid smelling swamp, and Gerran shifted into his human form at last. Straightening his collar, he then stepped gracefully to the decrepit thatch door and knocked.

  They waited for one long, nerve-wracking moment, before the door swung open, and a bug-eyed witch in a pointy purple hat stood at the entrance, broomstick in hand.

  “Oh. It's you,” she said. Her voice came out strangely pleasant and mellow, where Esmer expected a screechy, old woman noise. “Come on in, then.” The witch then peered at Esmer, pursing her lips. “Don't see princesses here often. If at all. One of yours, Gerran, or a Quester?”

  “One of mine. A volunteer.”

  The witch grinned. “I like you already. Come in, princess.”

  Nervous, because Esmer had heard a lot of things about witches in the kingdoms, and none of them nice, she went into the home, and found that on the inside, it looked orderly and clean, compared to the shack on the outside. Several cats were sprawled around the furniture as well, one of them licking its paw.

  “I take it you're not here for a cup of tea,” the witch said.

  “No, sorry,” Gerran answered. “Esmer, this is Hattie. Hattie, this is Esmer. Hattie, my princess here wants to learn magic. Would you be willing to help her out?”

  “Hmm,” Hattie said, adjusting her broomstick. Esmer's heart gave a peculiar lurch when Gerran announced her as my princess. That sort of thing could go to a woman's head. “I suppose I can teach. It does mean you'll be learning witch enchantments, though. Your kingdoms don't like witches. You prefer mages.”

  Esmer shrugged, trying to hide her glee. “I don't mind. Any magic at this point would be a blessing.”

  Hattie gave a gap-toothed smile. Frizzy blonde hair tufted out from her hat, loosened by her bobbing motion. “It will be nice to have a new apprentice. You seem like you have a good head on those shoulders. I'm not catching that typical empty brain manner.”

  “Thanks,” Esmer said. “Though honestly, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed right now.”

  “That'll change.” Hattie turned to Gerran, who sat with a fond expression. One of the cats sauntered over to him and puddled into his lap, purring. He stroked the ginger fur. “Gerran. State your purpose.”

  The prince licked his lips. “I'm looking around for a better weapon to fight with. I heard that recently you ensnared Gold Goblins, and they're notorious for having ancient and powerful artefacts.”

  “Hmm.” Hattie grinned coldly. “I might have a few trinkets. They don't come cheap, mind.”