Mage and Court Collection

It’d been days since she’d had air this fresh. Cata took in a deep breath, inhaling the dewy scent of the forest. Giant oaks loomed overhead, dripping with lichen and moss, pines were dotted about and a variety of fronds and ferns built up the undergrowth. Damp leaves brushed against her bare arms and painted her cotton shirt in transparency.

“Running away after a night of bad sex. Now that is pathetic Cata.” She mocked her mother’s voice under her breath. She kicked at rotten log.

Bad sex was the standard practice in the Katlins, the cluster of towns and agricultural sector she hailed from. It was the smallest region and sat right on the border of the kingdom. From years of raids, they’d grown into fighters more than lovers.

Regardless, home was home. She’d rather feel like shit at home, rather than in some foreign kingdom.

Songbirds called through the trees, reminding the forest the sun was rising. They called to their loves, singing of their triumph over the night. There wasn’t much here aside from the birds, weaving through the branches of the trees. She wanted to see a velvet deer or a corriax. A forest dragon would have been beautiful but not worth danger.

Her mother had told her not to come back. That it was her duty as the oldest daughter to strengthen trade, that the village needed to make better economical moves.

A bark slashed the through the greenery. The forest stopped as if every creature dropped dread. Cata’s dug her feet into the soft earth, turned and ran.

She was running away. There were worse things than death. Things an unhappy king could easily deliver.

Her garden just started blooming with the start of spring. She had four little siblings back home. Parents who seemed to argue at anything and needed remediation. She had a puppy she just taught how to sit.

She was shoved in two places along her back. Mid stride, they forced her to dive forward and avoid a tumble. She skidded along the ground, undergrowth snatching at her long hair. But she couldn’t cover her face or curl up in time, she was too slow. Sticks took their turns at her face and sharp things bit into her back. Her heart began to break down and her lungs with it. Her clenched eyes did her no good, nor did her braced arms. Nothing saved her.

Nothing could save her.

Not from the wet lick of a long abrasive tongue.

The sound of panting and padding paws waded its way into her hearing.

She forced an eye open. A fine black nose was pointed to it. The nose belonged to long snout covered in shiny strands of white. A black and pink mottled tongue hung out and steam rose from its surface.

“Delilah?” She asked in utter disbelief. She blinked several times, making sure the dog didn’t fade from her vision.

The king’s dog nosed its way into her hands. She demanded patting, even with wet clumping fur and breath that would knock an ogre out.

“You lead them right to me!” She reprimanded, yet she still rubbed Deliah’s black and white head in her hands. She looked up to Cata like she was a good girl, her brown eyes pools of happiness. Cata definitely did not currently think Deliliah was a good girl.

A horse stamped through the surrounding thickets, cutting a line through the forest. It was white, but splotched with powers and dyes. Little stars were painted across it’s hide as well as moons and suns.

Cata froze as the rider caught her eye. The dog happily remained in her dead grip. “Jester.” She whispered.

He’d sat up tall, the picture of posture and grace. The curves of his muscles were explicitly shown through the faded red shirt. It clung to him with the forest dew and the effort he put into riding.

His body didn’t seem to match his face. Normally hidden behind a jingling hat. It was painted in white, with stars. Almost beautiful, definitely tragic. He was funny, but his jokes were practiced. His hand stands and bridges were too perfect. His tongue was too sharp.

He spoke in a nasally pitched way, loud and mocking. Not at all attractive. Had they burned his tongue? No doubt he’d endured much tortured.

His eyes searched and he reigned the horse multiple times, shifting directions like an uneasy fox. He looked up and down from a piece of paper in one hand. The other way out of the castle was through these woods. And they were very, very big woods. What was he up to?

Cata slowly reached down her boot, to the small knife sitting within it’s built in pouch.

The jester stopped when Delilah yipped. Cata wished the dog could speak English and explain herself. He manoeuvred the horse with the movement of his hips. The way he moved made her cheeks heat. His gaze settled on her, icy blue, like she was the dirt under his shoe.

She was stuck. He was staring at her, the way she was trapped. She wondered if it was magic, some kind of spell. She would have believed him if he said he was reading her mind.

She swallowed. She’d been caught. What would he do? What was behind that face powder and what was he after?

He snorted and broke contact. He circled back from where he’d come from.

She looked down at Delilah and noticed that transparency of her top. Her jaw dropped and her face seared. He looked at me, snorted and left. She couldn’t comprehend the level of insult she felt.

Cata gave Delilah a stern look. Delilah wagged.

With a big sigh, Cata headed for a hollow log. The problem was, Delilah followed.

“I love you Delilah, but I can’t take you with me. I’d be hanged for kidnapping the king’s dog.”

A whistle shrilled through the trunks of the trees and greenery surrounding her. Delilah barked once, twice, loud and clear.

Cata gave up on explaining to the dog.

Moments later, the trot of horse broke the temporary still. The first horse that cut its way back in was the king’s. Followed by his mage. And then the Jester. What was his game?

The Jester’s horse was laden with the plump blue and brown bodies of quails, grouped by string around the legs and arrows in a satchel. What an odd trio. Did really value the Jester’s entertainment to keep him on whilst hunting? And was he using the mage to cheat?

“Good morning, Princess Cata. Out for a walk?” The king’s voice was firm. It fit his square features, the way his eyes pierced. He must have known.

“Yes, your highness.”

“Not running away?”

Warriors shouldn’t be scared. Women from the Katlins, weren’t afraid. Yet fear flooded every pore, it must have seeped from her skin. He had to be able to smell it.

She winced. “No, your highness. I really needed the fresh air.” She was a terrible liar, and she knew it. She also knew sticks were in hair and dirt was smeared across her freckled cheeks.

He nodded. “Trade wouldn’t look good if you disappeared.”

The statement was clear as a windowpane. The consequences of her potential actions were laid out bare. She wasn’t that selfish.

“I’ll see you at dinner. I have something special prepared.”

The Mage left as soon as the king had. The jester took another look at her. He whistled as he finally turned his horse around and Deliliah followed.

Cata pursed her lips. Damn Delilah. She probably didn’t even know what she did wrong.