Wraith's Garden
Seen in the eyes of a sleeping child--an unwanted destiny shifting into a living dream. A love lost to an embedded curse. The cold stone wall meets her head in a harsh cradle. Headaches.
Please, not that other form. Resist. Resist.
Soft light from over her beloved. Fading to sunset colors in the west. Her dark violet eyes stung with tears. Perhaps it was inevitable.
He would kill her. Turning again, his green-eyed friend threatened her beloved. It was her price, not her beloved's.
He's not supposed to die!
The enchanted blonde stepped closer. She turned into a creature of darkness--twice her size, razor-blade claws, glowing violet refracting eyes, twelve body lengths wide wings. Stretching her wings out in the air, she took flight.
Wing beats upward, and avoided gashes from sword. Display a circular aerial display. Her eyes watering though she could not cry as demonsbane.
Don't you remember me?
Trying to say so in flight.
Her beloved seemed to know. Mesmerized and looked like he could finally smile. She remembered that smile. Before the war, he used to smile.
You love me! I am the Princess Shanté.
A white flag--her nation. Did he remember? Did he know she was of that nation? She waved it.
"Shanté?" his lips whispered.
He remembered. The promise is honored. Lower, go lower.
He shook his head violently and reached to pierce her wing. Falling-- No! Don't crush him. The flag drops on him. She spreads her feet wide.
Changing back... she was turning human. Her arm bled. Perhaps it was part of the dream. Let it be part of the dream. She was to die. She remembered.
The green-eyed friend watched her. She looked up helplessly. A wail came loudly ringing against the walls of the empty castle.
She looked up at the friend of her beloved. He was in shock. His hands were shaking. He was whimpering softly. He could not speak.
"I can fix this! I will correct my mistake! I can! I will! Xaviar must live!"
Her hand stretched over him. The other hand clenched her amulet.
Closing her eyes, she let her aura surround the fallen man. She pushed until she could feel no more. She felt cold, but glad. She took the flag off of her beloved's face.
Shanté whispered, "I, now, understand."
Prince Xaviar's eyes opened.
Images of the trap flashed through her head.
"I am so glad," she said softly as she fell back and died.
A yell issued from the prince's lips.
"Why didn't you stop her?" he asked his shocked friend.
His friend said nothing.
Grief overcame the Prince Xaviar. Desperately kissing Shanté's golden hair. Desperately kissing her fast chilling blood-red lips. She could no longer feel it.
The aura spell lingered in the air. Shanté could see her beloved cry.
You truly loved me. You thought that the demon was an obstacle to our love.
Her wraith hovered low. Fingers gently touched his lips. As if he could see her... he was looking into her eyes.
I will correct this. I will not let this happen. I will always love you. We will be all right.
Kissing his lips, she left on the next warm wind.
A warm presence felt by him. He looked there for a long time until a warm wind touched his lips. It was familiar. The tears on his face ran faster.
***
A young girl smiled merrily as she skipped through the palace's garden. Her golden hair was back in a ponytail. In her hair were flowers. Her dark blue eyes had specks of violet in them and were wide open with the innocence of a seven year old.
She stopped when she saw a beautiful maiden crying softly.
The girl tilted her head and asked, "Why are you crying? You shouldn't cry! I am Princess Shanté! I command you to stop!"
She giggled a little.
The maiden sighed and looked at Shanté.
She had eyes that were tired and were much darker than Shanté's. Her hair was a darker gold and thicker beneath the cloth. Her lips were blood-red and shiny. Her face was pale, but looked soft to touch. Some kind of deep sadness was about her fragile body. She was dressed completely in white, which was strange since it was improper of a lady her age.
A sigh escaped the maiden's lips.
"You are just as I remember you."
The voice was clear and beautiful. It lingered in the air like wind chimes or the ring of a bell. It was melancholy. It struck Shanté deeply that this was indeed a sad lost soul.
Shanté tilted her head the other way and asked politely, "Are you a friend of my father, the King of this land? I do not remember you among the guests. I was made to remember them all."
"In a way, yes, I met him many ages ago."
"You do not look that old."
"But time has made me as old as I say I am."
"You're pretty. You shouldn't cry! I'm not pretty at all. The Queen is arranging a marriage to my sister's betrothed's younger brother."
Shanté wrinkled her nose.
The sad maiden smiled momentarily, but the smile was haunting and distant.
"I will stop crying if you make me a promise, Princess Shanté. Will you do that for me?"
Shanté nodded her head.
"Refuse your mother in everything." the maiden said firmly.
"Why should I? My mother will make me miserable! I won't!"
"Just promise me. It will be for the best," the maiden said.
A soft wind blew.
"I'll try," Shanté said.
The maiden smiled as the wind blew a little more. She heard Shanté's words.
Shanté dropped her daisies on the ground. The wind scattered them and Shanté quickly picked them up. When Shanté looked up at where the maiden was sitting, she saw that the maiden was gone.
Shanté smiled. She remembered her promise.
***
Winds calling for change. Fingers upon red lips. Comb upon golden hair. An unpredictable stream. A changing current.
In a space of no change things are remembered differently. Blood shed. Metal clashed metal. Brother fought brother. Innocence cry. All for one voice.
Screams. Over hills. In the mountains. Through plains and valleys. The two kingdoms' wrath spared none. The sorrow continued until the brother whose love was true, killed the brother of greed. Want was his game and to possess is what he wanted.
Much blood soaked the lands, and much more would happen again on shattered two kingdoms.
The white veil landed softly on top of the golden hair. White roses formed a band around the head.
The winds were blowing and bending the current. Perhaps she could be freed.
***
The court assembled and the king sighed as the band started to play.
Then Princess Shanté entered. She curtsied and bowed her head to the King and nodded once to the Queen.
She did not speak and then turned to the assembled.
Shanté was wearing a soft lavender dress in the latest fashion. It was very simple for a princess, but it suited her wonderfully and was made of yards and yards of fine silk.
Her eyes of deep blue and specks of violet looked enchanting and stood out as precious gems. Her red lips needed no paint to make them that way.
But compared to that of her older sister Kashimi, she was no match. Kashimi's hair was light, her lips were not only red, but soft, smooth and inviting. Shanté was no match for the Princess Kashimi except for in one thing.
Shanté nodded softly and held her hands neatly. She closed her eyes until she heard the sound of the music start. She immediately put up her hand when she heard someone talking. The music stopped.
She merely pointed and the person was asked to leave.
She again folded her hands neatly and then nodded. She let the music take her away and overpower her and then softly took in a breath. Apprehension filled the air as the assembled watched the small princess.
Out of Shanté's mouth came the purest sound that no instrument could match. It drowned the other sounds out of the room. It was clearer than a bell and held such emotion that everyone felt what she felt.
Black eyes watched from the shadows. Under a hood they measured and listened. Silver hair escaped from the darkness of the hood. A sneer formed on the wrinkled lips.
So the performance was over and Princess Shanté left. The room was entirely silent as the Princess walked out of the doors.
Only the hooded woman followed Shanté.
The woman was wizened and her face was tanned with the glare of the sun. She said clearly,
"Be warned of the Siren's voice.
Red rivers will ruin two lands.
lakes will form
under the white flag
stained forever."
The woman left as Princess Shanté watched.
***
Smell of dead men carried on the wind. More innocent dead filled the wraiths' nose and ears. The guilt felt was sincere. It rang in their heads until all but one could remain.
Her eyes lined more heavily with sorrow. She spun on her spinning wheel. Her punishment was not at an end. She ran towards the sound. She ran closer until the grief filled her body. The sorrow deepened in her skin and bones. She still ran until she reached the white mist. She must help them. It would relieve her soul.
***
Princess Shanté often walked in the garden alone. She liked to pass the cypress tree and look at the place where the maiden had once cried. Today she stared at that place. She closed her eyes and remembered the maiden crying. It was nice to see a face that was far more beautiful than she could ever hope to be.
She opened her eyes to see an austere old woman in the place of the maiden. She was not like the sage. She did seem important. She was dressed in fine white muslin, the kind meant to mourn the dead. Her head was covered with the same material as the one would expect for a widow. She had violet eyes and silver hair. She had to have been once a great beauty because her cheekbones here high and her forehead was of great beauty.
The woman raised her eyebrow at Shanté.
"Princess Shanté," she said simply.
"I am her."
"Many bolts of white cloth will be needed for the sanguine fields. Heed my words and perhaps this will not come to pass. The powers of your voice are harmless. It is your beauty and position that will destroy two lands.
"Never give your position to the wizard who lives in the sky.
"Heed the words of my granddaughter and never obey your mother. Great importance lies in these things."
Shanté nodded slowly. A warm wind rustled through the trees. For a moment Shanté thought the woman smiled, but when Shanté blinked, she was gone.
***
Anguish years cut through by a voice. Many Lost souls eased. The soil was unfit to plow. It was soaked with disillusionment, innocence, and most of all grief. The voice came pure and clear from the first clang of the sword.
The voice was clearer than the sound of a bell. It swept away any pain felt in a dying heart. They lived for that voice. The voice spoke deeply. The coldest heart would move. The voice cut sadness. The voice healed grief.
The person who held it in her throat did not hold pride in it as one would expect, but rather scorn.
The voice sang until the canvas was painted with primer and the owner sold it for one important soul.
***
"Mother, no. I will not submit to your silly whims," Princess Shanté said, truly annoyed at the queen.
"It's not a whim!" the Queen Merana yelled.
"You may have given birth to me and I contain half of your blood, but I simply will not learn things like crocheting lace and ball etiquette."
"For centuries women of my blood have done this. Do not defy me in this too," Queen Merana said in a harsh whisper.
"I do not see why the function of women in society should be so limited. I would like to learn self defense and riding too."
"That is not a job of a woman. I will have you confined to your rooms until you cooperate."
"Then I shall go," Princess Shanté said.
"Dinner will be brought to your room."
"Thank you, Mother, " Shanté said.
#
In the time Shanté was confined to her room she requested books of learning from the great library.
The guards could not refuse her, even if most of the books she requested were forbidden to women. Her voice sang and pleased them deeply. The more she sang, the stronger her voice was. Their hearts melted as they listened.
She did not know she did this, but continued to ask for more books, all of which she read.
She learned that to the North of Argente were the Verterians. The place was peaceful and small. It often held sanctuary for injured, old, and outcasts. Though small it held a lot of power from what Shanté understood.
To the west of Argente was where the sun set. The kingdom there was large and was well known for the Black Mountains on the Western Border. This kingdom was named Bretkala. There lived her betrothed. It was in her best interest to marry there.
She understood that though the military strength was not as strong as the other nations, Bretkala was a nation of many ores and minerals. It was rich nation. Argente already had a strong army. Verteri was no threat.
To the south and East lay an old nation that had been falling for centuries. They held onto their legends, while many of them fled through Argente to Verteri.
But as Shanté searched she could not find the true name of this nation or what it was called now. It was nameless in any of the books she received. This greatly interested her, but she soon gave up. It was clearly not worn on Men's tongues anymore.
***
Hearts are heavy around grief and when a wound is renewed, it can seem to hurt more than when it first started.
The maiden closed her eyes and faintly rubbed her upper arm and thigh in remembrance of something from long ago. It is pain and pleasure that intermingle.
Back slap. Anger filled hand. Bruise as the hand grips harder and the rough voice gives the commands.
In the corner of the wraith's garden sits the important maiden. She is holding her knees.
Obey me! Obey!
Eyes cast away. Tears don't come down. A prayer is said from whitened lips.
The maiden hugs them closer to her chest letting the wind blow in her hair.
The hands reach for cloth. The face is angry and frustrated. Slap across the face again. The right hand grabs the arm harder.
The maiden twists her golden ring with a blank expression.
Hands in fists, eyes closed tight. A ball of light forms. Something inside is dwelling. Anger fills.
The maiden takes the ring off.
Hand is grabbing thigh. Gruff words saying she wants him.
The maiden puts the ring back on.
Light comes from her hand. Blinded him. Runs off. Beloved will defend his and her honor. She's brother-prince's wife.
The wind blows her hair in front of the maiden easily carrying it, and veiling her face.
***
Festive tidings come with the gentle lapping sounds of water ebbing on the shore. The chimes rang with happiness.
Kashimi was happy. She smiled and cheered her wedding day. She loved the way her dress fitted her small frame. She loved how the flowers framed her face. She loved seeing her friends beside her.
She confided in Shanté, " It will not be so bad bearing to that man if I can remember this day with kindness."
Kashimi was happy and content. After all, she said so herself.
"I think I shall be happy at the reception. With so much food from so many places, I will truly feel rich. It will not be so bad going so far away," she told Shanté.
Shanté sighed as she watched her sister smile and looked far more beautiful than she.
Princess Shanté watched the thin tapered hands shake the hands of many people. She watched the perfect blue eyes look upon her new husband.
"Is she lovely in your eyes?" a voice came from behind her.
"Why should my opinion matter? She is far more valued than I," Shanté replied sadly.
"Perhaps it matters very much to me," the voice coaxed.
"If she was not so delicate, her hair like rays of sunshine, her complexion so fair, and her proportions not so perfect, perhaps she could not be called the beauty of this country," Princess Shanté said tightly.
"Then, are you jealous?" the voice asked.
"No, I view her with much kindness. This is a hard day for her," Princess Shanté replied.
"And what of you?" the voice asked softly.
"If it was my wish, I'd not marry. I would sooner ride the countryside with my white horse Nephele than subject myself to such an institution as marriage. But as it is, I am betrothed to a man I have never seen. He is the groom's brother, from what I hear."
The deep voice was silent. Then it slowly spoke, "What is so wrong about marriage?"
"There is no love to the marriage I am doomed to walk. My betrothed is often away from his country. He could not come to the ceremonies because of it."
The Princess Shanté raised her jeweled goblet to her sister and toasted, "I truly wish you happiness and prosperity."
She drank down a third of the goblet and then turned only to find the man who asked the questions gone.
***
The wraiths sing and play too, but they are songs we do not sing and games we have forgotten how to play. The wraiths of innocence only play them, for they do not see what's wrong in playing such games in a garden of sadness.
The lone maiden who was blamed sits alone and cries without voice.
For that voice was silent when prince-brother killed brother-prince. It was speechless when brother-prince killed prince-brother. The voice quivered and cracked, still holding much beauty as it screamed and cried in agony.
Then at last the voice which had sang people to life was silenced.
A wizard came to her side as he watched both men fall.
"Do you believe your love to be true? If you think so deeply of him, sacrifice your voice to me as he sacrificed his life to you."
"But sir, my voice holds a part of me."
"Is it your identity?"
The maiden's eyes closed and tears fell. The voice could not remember its value. She was silenced.
"You may only earn it back if you go to the Black Mountains where the sun sets its head."
She nodded, though her speaking voice worked. Joy was around her though she could no longer sing it. She fled to her beloved.
***
A parade and cheering came from the streets. The Prince from the west had come! The Prince that was to marry the Princess Shanté!
People lined up to see this stately man, only to find that he did not appear. They waited and waited until night fell. Many grew impatient and went home.
Then the clomp of horse feet came. A hooded figure entered the palace with the clearance of the night shift.
The Princess was still confined to her chambers they said, pointing to a window with a candle still flickering.
The man looked up to see the maiden look down upon him.
He rode in and put his horse in the stable. As he did so, a sound came from the candlelit window. It was soft and moved him deeply. It spoke to his soul and he was sure he had heard it and stood there before, but could not remember the time or the place.
The stable boy looked at the man and said, "That is the Princess Shanté. She sings every night to the moon and stars."
"Ah, then the man that will marry her is quite lucky," the man replied.
"Oh no sir. She is quite defiant. She will not do as her mother wishes and is cross in all respects except when she sings."
"Is she a beauty?" the man asked.
"She is quite plain next to her sister Kashimi, but she does have some spots of beauty."
"I have seen Kashimi. I thought her quite boring to look upon," the man said.
"Do you have many beautiful women in your country sir?" the stable boy asked.
"Yes, many beautiful ones, but not one plain one. Say, what does the princess like to do besides sing?"
"Surely my tongue would be cut out if I told, sir," the stable hand replied.
The man flipped out two gold coins and carefully took out a silver which he carefully laid on top of the two coins head up.
The boy didn't take the money, but quickly answered, "Reading histories forbidden to women and riding, sire. I hear she is fond of archery too."
"Ahh, a woman of my own heart."
"Sire, should I go get the head chamber mistress?" the stable boy asked.
"The stable will suit me fine. I grew tired of fancy beds."
"As you wish, sire."
***
A soul stripped of expression. A heart that cannot speak. Surely that is the greatest sin of all.
This was what Shanté felt. The Princess Shanté could not sing anymore. She carried her sadness in this, for her not to be able to express in voice, was like an artist without a medium.
When she opened her mouth, it was silent.
The Prince Xaviar understood her sacrifice. She had not sold a piece of herself at all, she had sold her soul. As much as he held her in his arms, he could not in his heart let her stay there.
"My Princess, you must go to the Black Mountains."
"I know the ways of the wizard well. He will surely trick me and then you and I will be doomed."
"Perhaps, but I rather let you have your soul than for you to be with me."
He said this with much kindness and affection. The Princess Shanté could not refuse.
"Be I beast, demon, or witch, will you love me still?" she asked.
"Be you beast, demon, or witch, I will still love you as I always have."
"But will you recognize my soul?"
"Sing and I will know."
So she left the comforts of the castle and her Prince, but did not tell him of the life she carried in her. But only life that can be given if the mother has her soul, and so she departed.
***
It was as the meeting was wished to be. Quiet and very secret.
Princess Shanté was to defy her mother in all things to please the sad maiden in the garden. Her mother had ordered her daughter to love a man she did not know. She met the man with great disdain. Her mother watched with eagle eyes on the least of her daughter's defiance.
"Do I displease you that highly, Princess?" he asked.
"I have heard many disgraceful things attached to your family name and your person. Why should I not hold you in a little contempt?"
Queen Merana almost slapped her daughter, but instead held her hand in a tight fist until her knuckles turned white.
"Perhaps you should explain what you have heard and I will listen with an open mind and answer your concerns."
"Indeed, that is a wise answer, but these are not things for a mother to hear," she replied smoothly.
Queen Merana fumed, but soon left with her personal guards.
"Now that your mother has graciously left, will you explain my offenses?"
"I have heard of your brother exploiting many women and bedding many more. How come if a woman sleeps with one man other than the one she is to marry, she is condemned. Yet a man, such as your brother, can boast of more than 40 'exploits' and seductions before his wedding night and go unpunished?" she asked.
"I do see it quite ill-fated for such a man as that. The actions of my brother I cannot question. He is the elder of us and therefore claims rank," Prince Xaviar replied.
"I have heard of abuse of my sister," she said simply.
"I have not heard such rumors. Has your sister written you such things? I have heard however that she brings good tidings with news that she is with child."
"I have also heard you will not sleep in a bed and prefer men's company to that of a female's companionship. I have heard many things, which I do not care to list. It has not marked well on my character."
The defiant eyes which had fire in them turned to ice. She raised her head higher.
"My betrothed is man and not a woman," the Prince said in return.
"With such insults, why should I marry a man such as you?" she asked.
"Perhaps you have judged me too quickly. I may prefer sleeping in the stable with my horse and ride at night, but I do not mind a woman's company. I merely prefer not to sleep with women, but rather to charm them as I will. I had not slept with a woman for your sake. You are famed for your charm and grace. I would like to win your heart very much before our wedding day."
"I will be friends, no more," Princess Shanté said coldly.
"Princess Shanté Auget, I cannot accept a friend that would be so cold, or a lover that is a friend."
"Then I will merely say, 'no' on our wedding day," Princess Shanté replied.
"I have been polite, but you have been arrogant. I do not see what I did to deserve this behavior," he said annoyed.
"Prince Xaviar Kalanor, it would cause more pain if I was to love you and even more if your were to love me," Shanté said.
"You would want a contract of detachment?" he asked perplexed.
"Yes."
"Very well, Princess, but I must warn you, I have heard your voice and I could have sworn I heard it before. I loved that voice."
Prince Xaviar kissed Princess Shanté's hand and left. He felt a clear pang in his heart as he left the room.
Princess Shanté smiled.
***
The wraiths whispered and watched. The maiden was holding her knees and slowly rocking. The important lady. The lady who had brought them here.
They whispered of her journey. They whispered of her journey to the Black Mountains steep. The Black Mountains where the wizard slept. The wizard who had taken her voice. Taking her voice was a tragedy, surely, because they would not be there if they had heard her voice.
Her voice was lost to the wizard and so was her love.
She still felt love for the Prince Xaviar!
Oh, yes, but the curse made it impossible for her to love.
Yes, like a demon, surely you have heard?
Heard what?
What, you have not witnessed the tale of love.
Love is cliché.
Cliché or not, Love is important.
Important? Why?
Why should it not be? The wizard spoke blackly to her and cast her soul here. If she would sing again we would be freed.
Freed? But what does her voice contain?
Her soul. Before she went to the mountains steep she was silenced forever.
***
A hooded figure stood below the balcony again that night, and Princess Shanté noticed with interest. She stopped her voice and hailed him.
"Do I know you? Perhaps we once met."
He sang softly in a baritone and then in a tenor.
It was a love song she remembered hearing when she was seven. It was a silly song with a soft lullaby melody.
He stopped and looked up.
"Do you like it?"
She looked surprised, focused her eyes and saw the man to be Prince Xaviar. It was the man she was to marry.
"I confess I do, but I still think you a disgrace."
"And what of a maiden locked up in her chambers because of a long ago defiance to her mother?"
"Perhaps I have motives for such actions."
"And perhaps I have motives for mine."
"Mine are more worthy than yours."
"I would prefer to talk to you closer."
She glimmered her necklace a few times in the candlelight and dropped a knot ladder. She climbed down and faced the Prince.
"I am still to be despised," she said as the ladder mysteriously disappeared.
"I see, because you like taking moonlight walks with men you hate?" he asked, amused.
"It's not like that at all!" she objected feeling her cheeks turn red with anger.
He took her hand and tried to get her to move.
"We will be spotted if we do not move quickly," he said.
She complied and led him by hand into a damp passageway. She ducked her head as she entered. He soon followed without objection.
They ended up in an abandoned space that once was a beautiful garden, but was now overrun with weeds and ruins of the castle.
He took down his hood and looked at Shanté. He immediately admired her. In this light she shone. Her long lashes misted beautiful blue-violet eyes. Her cheek bones were high and her mouth looked more delicate and beautiful than when he saw her before.
To any other man she would look plain, but to Xaviar, he saw a fairy-maiden of the mists.
Dew quickly clung to her dress and hair. The illusion of her in this light and air was magnificent.
She quickly turned her violet eyes on him.
His mouth was gaping a little and admiration was filling his eyes. Etched on his face was love.
"What do you see?" she asked softly.
"Something to cherish for the rest of my life," Xaviar answered.
"Well, I can't stay for long. I have a request of you."
"A request? Speak it," he replied.
"To save us pain and not marry me."
"It is not my choice anymore than it is yours," he replied slowly touching her face with affection.
Her heart beat faster and she felt something stir within her. She turned away so that he would not see her tears.
"I know what you feel for me and it is wrong. I am no charm or beauty. I do not like my position or rank. It would be best if you were to persuade the powers that be that I am indeed unworthy of your love and tender affections," she said casting her eyes to the ground.
"I can do no such thing. This alliance was made before you or I were born."
She turned back to face him, looked up and said, "But I cannot love you."
Tears were streaming down her eyes and shimmering in the full moon.
Her skirt slowly settled and he saw pain. He felt it.
He left quickly. She bent down and cried.
***
Hearts quiver and the wraiths cried anguish over the soul that cried and would not sing.
Flowers in a crown, she left the place and kissed each forehead and nodded. A new wraith was to join her if she did not depart.
***
Laughter rang from behind Shanté. It was soft and almost mocking. From the cypress tree, it came.
Shanté turned to see a maiden in black, her face veiled. She was barely 13.
"Why do you laugh?" Shanté asked.
"You have cried a fortnight over a Prince you love. He loves you. I see great irony in that," the wraith replied.
"My mother said to love him. I follow a promise," Shanté replied.
The maiden gave a sardonic look and said, "So it is true, humans are idiots compared to wraith's knowledge."
Annoyed, Shanté asked, "What do you know that is so important?"
The wraith replied,
"Defy all that stands in your way
and happiness shall find your heart."
The wraith disappeared on the next whisper.
***
The hands were scratched and scabbed of unhealed wounds, but the Princess Shanté could not feel the wounds. She climbed with her destination in mind until she reached the Roof of the World. On the mountain peak lay a wizard-wise.
He held her voice in crystal and tapped it to make a sound pure.
I have come. You promised me my voice.
You will have to earn it back.
I have sacrificed my life and my soul to you and you ask for more.
In years hence you will need to take a journey.
What service must I pay you?
You must care for me until I die naturally. To make sure you do not break the bond, I make you with demon bane.
I am with child. I cannot do this without knowing it's safe.
It will not be born if the mother has no soul. It will not be born with demon bane curse.
The Princess Shanté slowly agreed knowing her baby within her was a boy. One in the image of his father and the wit and wisdom of his mother. For him and her love she consented. For him and her love she would die.
***
"Will you marry me for love?"
A scream issued from lips and the pain set in. Oh so much pain.
"Much hardship lies in love, but I will."
There was too much blood. Too much blood. There should never be blood like this on a day of joy.
"You are still wary of me?"
The scream issued again from a sweaty face. She was so young and thin. Poor beauty was weak.
"Yes, very."
No cry from the child. Signs appeared on the womens' chests. They held their symbols. The babe was blue. The mother suffered no more. A breath did not come from her lips. The mumbling grew louder as one left to tell the news.
The news traveled faster on the wind than by horse. The newly wed princess was dead. Her son was stillborn.
"I do not see the why's involved."
White stained with blood. The first omen came. Queen Merana screamed her agony and tore at her hair.
"Much misfortune lies in our love."
The insanity wore in her eyes and she cried her anguish over her favorite child dead. Dead by her own son. It was a bad omen to be killed by an innocent.
"You do love me then?"
Her heart clenched and the servants all around her were afraid of Queen Merana. Her eyes were vacant and her movement erratic. Princess Kashimi was dead by boy-child born dead.
"I do, but I still see much trouble in our love. Do not be encouraged by it."
There was no heir to the throne. The Crown Prince needed a princess married to him with a male child to inherit the throne. In his amorous affairs he had left many illegitimate children, all daughters. He must secure his manhood to secure the throne. True princess Kashimi was beautiful, but she had died.
"You still are cold and unfeeling."
"I feel the winds changing. Bad omens are coming," Princess Shanté said.
***
Pain rippled across Shanté's stomach and she feared for a lost child. The wizard ensured her that the babe was human and safe, just not used to not growing.
"When someone sees no future they often wish to die... It is the way of things. You lose hope, and you lose your future. Mystery weaves it all. Learn these things. You must learn."
"All I remember is that you stole from me three times what did not belong to you, and then you stole me."
"I am doing you a favor you will forget and not know," the wizard replied.
The demon bane was on her. She often visited her love when she could, but she could not get near him. She would start to transform, and her middle would clench in revulsion.
She talked often to let him hear she was alive, but soon had to run away in tears.
The wizard finally gave her voice but kept the spell on her. She sang and sang until the mountains rang with her voice, but something was missing from it.
Something that kept the voice pure was not there. She heard it too, and though her voice was beautiful, it was not enough to let her love know she truly existed. It was trying to play a broken instrument.
She used it in frustration trying to sing to her babe not-yet born. She sang and sang until she could not sing.
The wizard watched and smiled as he got weaker and weaker.
"A lifetime of sadness
A lifetime of sorrow
everything will be fixed on the morrow
love fated will rise
the babe will be born
all will be saved
and the roads silver-paved."
And he died forgetting to give the cure to the demon bane.
***
The rain came down outside the windows as if the sky felt for the death of mother and child. Many heads had cloths of white covering them.
Princess Shanté did not cry. She did not mourn. She did not cheer. She felt nothing inside. She remembered Kashimi's kindness. She remembered the hope that she carried inside. But all she could think of was how small Kashimi looked inside the box. How thin her hands were. She remembered the paleness of Kashimi and the lines of pain in the corner of her eyes.
She watched the face as the glass was covered with dirt. She felt empty and distant towards the object. Kashimi had always been beautiful. She always would be to Shanté.
Shanté's feet were walking towards the cypress tree. She looked around, only to see a woman much like Kashimi sitting with her knees to her chest eating an apple.
But it was spring. Apples wouldn't be in season until fall.
"You must marry your betrothed's brother, unless your mother advises it."
"I am tormented by wraiths and your commands to me. I cannot help my heart, nor can I change his. You said I was destined to him, yet I must ignore this."
Tears ran down the wraith's eyes as she put the apple neatly in her lap.
"It is not easy from where I stand, but remember your position. Your sister has died, and though you may not think it, there will be war over her death, unless you placate the brother that has never known love."
"Yes, to save a country but not my soul," Shanté said bitterly.
"All will work out if you follow this."
The wraith rubbed her own upper arm before she faded away.
***
There was neither light or darkness in the place of the wraiths. They talked and played with no sense of light or dark because the definition didn't exist, therefore neither light nor dark could ever prevail.
The light that was felt was from a freed soul. But the wraiths had none.
The dark was from a condemned soul.
But the wraiths had none.
A wraith combed her own blond hair and pondered about her release.
All was going well except for in one place. That of the heart. The brother-prince had fallen for the Princess of voice. She must then marry prince-brother.
In this space, she found that even she could not wish harm to the princess of voice. She still remembered and in her remembrance she often rubbed the wounds that were not there.
But she oriented herself in the neither dark or light and fled in many colors of joy.
***
The command came for the change in plans. Prince Xaviar was far away and sent a picture of himself for Princess Shanté. He was aware that she was debating a change of heart.
"Surely the nose is too large," one of the handmaidens giggled.
"I do not think he's that gallant looking," said another.
"I think the whole thing looks mighty contrived," Shanté said.
"Is he better looking face to face, sire?" one asked.
"Certainly not so static as that atrocity," the handmaidens all giggled.
"Is this how you spend your hours?" Queen Merana said from the doorway dressed in black. The collar was high and not of any proper fashion. Proper ladies showed their necks.
"Mother, do you have to intrude?"
"It is of an important matter."
"Yes, I can see that," Princess Shanté replied coldly.
"You will marry the Crown Prince."
"I will not!" the Princess Shanté said.
"He needs an heir. You will marry him."
"No!" Princess Shanté yelled.
Queen Merana looked shocked and left.
Irene put a hand on Princess Shanté and said, "Perhaps you love Prince Xaviar more than you confess."
"Not when the man drools," Princess Shanté said smiling.
All the handmaidens except for Irene burst out laughing.
***
Perhaps, perhaps she'd done wrong. Her body ached from years relived. She suffered. Really suffered.
Her mind wandered again. She stared at her hands. They were hardened from work when she looked, but in this place they looked soft to any other. They were hardened to her. Work always had a price.
And so in the years that she was gone and the spell still upon her, the Prince Xaviar became King Xaviar of a broken two kingdoms. Two broken, both lost. To fire, blood and hatred once both sought.
A creature appeared in the skies many times. His heart was broken from a lost wife. He could not see into the demon's eyes.,
And there was failure of the promise. He could not look the demon in the eyes and read its soul.
The demon was tired and much abused. The kingdoms she loved were lost. The heir she was to bear could not be born. Her love did not recognize her. She loved, but felt none. The voice she cast as her soul was missing her soul.
She was tired. She was so very tired. Much work had been done. Her hands were rough and dry.
She looked at her hands and cried. Much, much more had to be done.
***
Request being denied, the Prince came to the country who flew the white banner. Soon Prince Xaviar followed. Both kingdoms were in despair. Duty was coming before the matters of the heart.
Heart was always in valor, but not in the politics held. So Xaviar came to Shanté late at night to her balcony to talk once more. She sent a signal and came with him to discuss what was being done.
"You refused his offer. Perhaps you credit him with bad traits," Xaviar whispered.
"If it must be done, then he should say it to my face, as you are to me. But as I know he has no decency to do so, I have refused him."
She sat with her hands on her lap neatly folded.
He took those hands and said, "It is true that I love. It is also true that you love also. But I cannot stand in the way of my brother's pride. I am a brother before I am a prince."
"You do this to defend his pride?" Shanté asked in much fury.
"I have to as I am his kin."
"Do you not think that my pride would be stung by such a match? Is man more important than woman?" she asked.
"I cannot help it, but our needs interfere with more than him. It involves many people."
She looked away and knew it was true.
She whispered quietly, "Then the love between us is truly hopeless. It always was meant to be?"
A hand touched her face. She found her violet eyes looking into his blue eyes.
"We cannot express our love anymore, but I still can feel it. You are wise enough for the both of us. Perseverance is a thing that happens through patience. I cannot fight a war when it means the lives of your and my people."
"I do not want to comply," Shanté answered sadly, knowing what he said was also true for her.
"People's lives come before my personal happiness. You are strong as no woman I have known before."
A spirit entered with understanding.
She whispered, "My Xaviar never said such a thing for me and wanted to defend my honor."
"You would not defend my honor?" Shanté asked.
"You are strong enough on your own," Xaviar said with much faith.
"I still have him inside me. Give him a soul," the spirit said.
"What if I refuse to lie with him?" Shanté asked.
"I would not usurp my brother to have a son."
"This is Xaviar I knew before he killed his brother," the wraith said quietly.
"I do not wish for the throne. I wish not to be a princess," Shanté said bitterly.
"Wishes are hope-filled dreams of the now. These are not tangible."
"Then we are done on this night?" Shanté asked.
"Yes for now," Xaviar replied.
The wraith disappeared.
***
Xaviar bent over his wife's dead body and held it one last time before she was placed into the dirt.
"I did not love her enough," he said.
"You loved her too much," his friend replied.
"She was not the strong sort."
"You defended her honor because of that," his green-eyed friend replied.
"She whispers to me still in her insistence that times will change. She explains it to me. Her other self will believe her."
"She was a sorceress," his friend said simply.
"A woman that loved too much."
"As you loved her."
"I could not see her in the end. I could not see her soul. Was our love true?"
"A wraith's wish is binding. Only the wraiths know."
***
Princess Shanté was married to her ex-betrothed's brother. There was no smile as they were joined for life. She faked sickness and refused to eat upon coming to the Crown Prince's kingdom.
He cared neither way and avoided treading through the door. She neither invited him nor wished to fulfill his desire for the crown. He took his share of women in his own chambers to release his own needs.
Xaviar never visited and she did not wish it. Too much pain and heartache lay in his memory.
When it finally occurred to the Crown Prince that perhaps he should get started on an heir, Shanté's father died, which called her to come to her kingdom to be at his side. Her husband had no rights until the kingdom was secure with a son.
She came suddenly accustomed to moonlight walks late into the night upon her return. The Crown Prince could not command her to stay in her bed as were the laws of her kingdom, which she still was bound to until she bore an heir.
It was finally up to Prince Xaviar to convince Princess Shanté to bear an heir for the Kingdoms.
She said to him, "I will not bear an heir for your brother. I will for you, but not your brother.
"Our days of love are over. My father is dying now. I cannot give him comfort until he knows that his kingdom is secure. When I mentioned perseverance, I did not mean stubbornness."
"You would make a better king for my kingdom than he," Princess Shanté said dancing around treason against her husband.
"I never wished for the crown," Prince Xaviar said with annoyance.
"Which is why you should have it!" she replied.
Xaviar could not argue with a woman that he once loved, but his heart said he still loved. He could not listen to his heart anymore for it battled greatly, so he left Shanté to her own means.
So Shanté was left with her husband, and he angry for her defiance often sulked and tried many times to teach discipline. It was the way of things. It was the way of things that women obeyed. She should obey Him and give Him an heir to inherit both kingdoms.
He tried to get her with force. Purple and black lined her body, but he had no success. In his failure he chose to have more women in his chambers to vent his frustration. But it did not satisfy his need.
The king of the two brothers was weak and had very little life left to him. His heart was breaking and clenching as hope of an heir left his body.
But it happened that Prince-brother died before his father's time. It happened that an errant hunting arrow pierced him and the wound became infected. Though he recovered from the infection, he was left weak and eventually died.
Soon after Shanté married Xaviar. They had a son. Soon after the birth, the king of the two brothers died. The son grew up happy, but Shanté's and Xaviar's love was not what it once had been, or what it could have been. Though they loved each other greatly, the soul and importance of the love was gone.
So she sang with soul, but sacrifices were made to free wraiths and let her own go free.
Please, not that other form. Resist. Resist.
Soft light from over her beloved. Fading to sunset colors in the west. Her dark violet eyes stung with tears. Perhaps it was inevitable.
He would kill her. Turning again, his green-eyed friend threatened her beloved. It was her price, not her beloved's.
He's not supposed to die!
The enchanted blonde stepped closer. She turned into a creature of darkness--twice her size, razor-blade claws, glowing violet refracting eyes, twelve body lengths wide wings. Stretching her wings out in the air, she took flight.
Wing beats upward, and avoided gashes from sword. Display a circular aerial display. Her eyes watering though she could not cry as demonsbane.
Don't you remember me?
Trying to say so in flight.
Her beloved seemed to know. Mesmerized and looked like he could finally smile. She remembered that smile. Before the war, he used to smile.
You love me! I am the Princess Shanté.
A white flag--her nation. Did he remember? Did he know she was of that nation? She waved it.
"Shanté?" his lips whispered.
He remembered. The promise is honored. Lower, go lower.
He shook his head violently and reached to pierce her wing. Falling-- No! Don't crush him. The flag drops on him. She spreads her feet wide.
Changing back... she was turning human. Her arm bled. Perhaps it was part of the dream. Let it be part of the dream. She was to die. She remembered.
The green-eyed friend watched her. She looked up helplessly. A wail came loudly ringing against the walls of the empty castle.
She looked up at the friend of her beloved. He was in shock. His hands were shaking. He was whimpering softly. He could not speak.
"I can fix this! I will correct my mistake! I can! I will! Xaviar must live!"
Her hand stretched over him. The other hand clenched her amulet.
Closing her eyes, she let her aura surround the fallen man. She pushed until she could feel no more. She felt cold, but glad. She took the flag off of her beloved's face.
Shanté whispered, "I, now, understand."
Prince Xaviar's eyes opened.
Images of the trap flashed through her head.
"I am so glad," she said softly as she fell back and died.
A yell issued from the prince's lips.
"Why didn't you stop her?" he asked his shocked friend.
His friend said nothing.
Grief overcame the Prince Xaviar. Desperately kissing Shanté's golden hair. Desperately kissing her fast chilling blood-red lips. She could no longer feel it.
The aura spell lingered in the air. Shanté could see her beloved cry.
You truly loved me. You thought that the demon was an obstacle to our love.
Her wraith hovered low. Fingers gently touched his lips. As if he could see her... he was looking into her eyes.
I will correct this. I will not let this happen. I will always love you. We will be all right.
Kissing his lips, she left on the next warm wind.
A warm presence felt by him. He looked there for a long time until a warm wind touched his lips. It was familiar. The tears on his face ran faster.
***
A young girl smiled merrily as she skipped through the palace's garden. Her golden hair was back in a ponytail. In her hair were flowers. Her dark blue eyes had specks of violet in them and were wide open with the innocence of a seven year old.
She stopped when she saw a beautiful maiden crying softly.
The girl tilted her head and asked, "Why are you crying? You shouldn't cry! I am Princess Shanté! I command you to stop!"
She giggled a little.
The maiden sighed and looked at Shanté.
She had eyes that were tired and were much darker than Shanté's. Her hair was a darker gold and thicker beneath the cloth. Her lips were blood-red and shiny. Her face was pale, but looked soft to touch. Some kind of deep sadness was about her fragile body. She was dressed completely in white, which was strange since it was improper of a lady her age.
A sigh escaped the maiden's lips.
"You are just as I remember you."
The voice was clear and beautiful. It lingered in the air like wind chimes or the ring of a bell. It was melancholy. It struck Shanté deeply that this was indeed a sad lost soul.
Shanté tilted her head the other way and asked politely, "Are you a friend of my father, the King of this land? I do not remember you among the guests. I was made to remember them all."
"In a way, yes, I met him many ages ago."
"You do not look that old."
"But time has made me as old as I say I am."
"You're pretty. You shouldn't cry! I'm not pretty at all. The Queen is arranging a marriage to my sister's betrothed's younger brother."
Shanté wrinkled her nose.
The sad maiden smiled momentarily, but the smile was haunting and distant.
"I will stop crying if you make me a promise, Princess Shanté. Will you do that for me?"
Shanté nodded her head.
"Refuse your mother in everything." the maiden said firmly.
"Why should I? My mother will make me miserable! I won't!"
"Just promise me. It will be for the best," the maiden said.
A soft wind blew.
"I'll try," Shanté said.
The maiden smiled as the wind blew a little more. She heard Shanté's words.
Shanté dropped her daisies on the ground. The wind scattered them and Shanté quickly picked them up. When Shanté looked up at where the maiden was sitting, she saw that the maiden was gone.
Shanté smiled. She remembered her promise.
***
Winds calling for change. Fingers upon red lips. Comb upon golden hair. An unpredictable stream. A changing current.
In a space of no change things are remembered differently. Blood shed. Metal clashed metal. Brother fought brother. Innocence cry. All for one voice.
Screams. Over hills. In the mountains. Through plains and valleys. The two kingdoms' wrath spared none. The sorrow continued until the brother whose love was true, killed the brother of greed. Want was his game and to possess is what he wanted.
Much blood soaked the lands, and much more would happen again on shattered two kingdoms.
The white veil landed softly on top of the golden hair. White roses formed a band around the head.
The winds were blowing and bending the current. Perhaps she could be freed.
***
The court assembled and the king sighed as the band started to play.
Then Princess Shanté entered. She curtsied and bowed her head to the King and nodded once to the Queen.
She did not speak and then turned to the assembled.
Shanté was wearing a soft lavender dress in the latest fashion. It was very simple for a princess, but it suited her wonderfully and was made of yards and yards of fine silk.
Her eyes of deep blue and specks of violet looked enchanting and stood out as precious gems. Her red lips needed no paint to make them that way.
But compared to that of her older sister Kashimi, she was no match. Kashimi's hair was light, her lips were not only red, but soft, smooth and inviting. Shanté was no match for the Princess Kashimi except for in one thing.
Shanté nodded softly and held her hands neatly. She closed her eyes until she heard the sound of the music start. She immediately put up her hand when she heard someone talking. The music stopped.
She merely pointed and the person was asked to leave.
She again folded her hands neatly and then nodded. She let the music take her away and overpower her and then softly took in a breath. Apprehension filled the air as the assembled watched the small princess.
Out of Shanté's mouth came the purest sound that no instrument could match. It drowned the other sounds out of the room. It was clearer than a bell and held such emotion that everyone felt what she felt.
Black eyes watched from the shadows. Under a hood they measured and listened. Silver hair escaped from the darkness of the hood. A sneer formed on the wrinkled lips.
So the performance was over and Princess Shanté left. The room was entirely silent as the Princess walked out of the doors.
Only the hooded woman followed Shanté.
The woman was wizened and her face was tanned with the glare of the sun. She said clearly,
"Be warned of the Siren's voice.
Red rivers will ruin two lands.
lakes will form
under the white flag
stained forever."
The woman left as Princess Shanté watched.
***
Smell of dead men carried on the wind. More innocent dead filled the wraiths' nose and ears. The guilt felt was sincere. It rang in their heads until all but one could remain.
Her eyes lined more heavily with sorrow. She spun on her spinning wheel. Her punishment was not at an end. She ran towards the sound. She ran closer until the grief filled her body. The sorrow deepened in her skin and bones. She still ran until she reached the white mist. She must help them. It would relieve her soul.
***
Princess Shanté often walked in the garden alone. She liked to pass the cypress tree and look at the place where the maiden had once cried. Today she stared at that place. She closed her eyes and remembered the maiden crying. It was nice to see a face that was far more beautiful than she could ever hope to be.
She opened her eyes to see an austere old woman in the place of the maiden. She was not like the sage. She did seem important. She was dressed in fine white muslin, the kind meant to mourn the dead. Her head was covered with the same material as the one would expect for a widow. She had violet eyes and silver hair. She had to have been once a great beauty because her cheekbones here high and her forehead was of great beauty.
The woman raised her eyebrow at Shanté.
"Princess Shanté," she said simply.
"I am her."
"Many bolts of white cloth will be needed for the sanguine fields. Heed my words and perhaps this will not come to pass. The powers of your voice are harmless. It is your beauty and position that will destroy two lands.
"Never give your position to the wizard who lives in the sky.
"Heed the words of my granddaughter and never obey your mother. Great importance lies in these things."
Shanté nodded slowly. A warm wind rustled through the trees. For a moment Shanté thought the woman smiled, but when Shanté blinked, she was gone.
***
Anguish years cut through by a voice. Many Lost souls eased. The soil was unfit to plow. It was soaked with disillusionment, innocence, and most of all grief. The voice came pure and clear from the first clang of the sword.
The voice was clearer than the sound of a bell. It swept away any pain felt in a dying heart. They lived for that voice. The voice spoke deeply. The coldest heart would move. The voice cut sadness. The voice healed grief.
The person who held it in her throat did not hold pride in it as one would expect, but rather scorn.
The voice sang until the canvas was painted with primer and the owner sold it for one important soul.
***
"Mother, no. I will not submit to your silly whims," Princess Shanté said, truly annoyed at the queen.
"It's not a whim!" the Queen Merana yelled.
"You may have given birth to me and I contain half of your blood, but I simply will not learn things like crocheting lace and ball etiquette."
"For centuries women of my blood have done this. Do not defy me in this too," Queen Merana said in a harsh whisper.
"I do not see why the function of women in society should be so limited. I would like to learn self defense and riding too."
"That is not a job of a woman. I will have you confined to your rooms until you cooperate."
"Then I shall go," Princess Shanté said.
"Dinner will be brought to your room."
"Thank you, Mother, " Shanté said.
#
In the time Shanté was confined to her room she requested books of learning from the great library.
The guards could not refuse her, even if most of the books she requested were forbidden to women. Her voice sang and pleased them deeply. The more she sang, the stronger her voice was. Their hearts melted as they listened.
She did not know she did this, but continued to ask for more books, all of which she read.
She learned that to the North of Argente were the Verterians. The place was peaceful and small. It often held sanctuary for injured, old, and outcasts. Though small it held a lot of power from what Shanté understood.
To the west of Argente was where the sun set. The kingdom there was large and was well known for the Black Mountains on the Western Border. This kingdom was named Bretkala. There lived her betrothed. It was in her best interest to marry there.
She understood that though the military strength was not as strong as the other nations, Bretkala was a nation of many ores and minerals. It was rich nation. Argente already had a strong army. Verteri was no threat.
To the south and East lay an old nation that had been falling for centuries. They held onto their legends, while many of them fled through Argente to Verteri.
But as Shanté searched she could not find the true name of this nation or what it was called now. It was nameless in any of the books she received. This greatly interested her, but she soon gave up. It was clearly not worn on Men's tongues anymore.
***
Hearts are heavy around grief and when a wound is renewed, it can seem to hurt more than when it first started.
The maiden closed her eyes and faintly rubbed her upper arm and thigh in remembrance of something from long ago. It is pain and pleasure that intermingle.
Back slap. Anger filled hand. Bruise as the hand grips harder and the rough voice gives the commands.
In the corner of the wraith's garden sits the important maiden. She is holding her knees.
Obey me! Obey!
Eyes cast away. Tears don't come down. A prayer is said from whitened lips.
The maiden hugs them closer to her chest letting the wind blow in her hair.
The hands reach for cloth. The face is angry and frustrated. Slap across the face again. The right hand grabs the arm harder.
The maiden twists her golden ring with a blank expression.
Hands in fists, eyes closed tight. A ball of light forms. Something inside is dwelling. Anger fills.
The maiden takes the ring off.
Hand is grabbing thigh. Gruff words saying she wants him.
The maiden puts the ring back on.
Light comes from her hand. Blinded him. Runs off. Beloved will defend his and her honor. She's brother-prince's wife.
The wind blows her hair in front of the maiden easily carrying it, and veiling her face.
***
Festive tidings come with the gentle lapping sounds of water ebbing on the shore. The chimes rang with happiness.
Kashimi was happy. She smiled and cheered her wedding day. She loved the way her dress fitted her small frame. She loved how the flowers framed her face. She loved seeing her friends beside her.
She confided in Shanté, " It will not be so bad bearing to that man if I can remember this day with kindness."
Kashimi was happy and content. After all, she said so herself.
"I think I shall be happy at the reception. With so much food from so many places, I will truly feel rich. It will not be so bad going so far away," she told Shanté.
Shanté sighed as she watched her sister smile and looked far more beautiful than she.
Princess Shanté watched the thin tapered hands shake the hands of many people. She watched the perfect blue eyes look upon her new husband.
"Is she lovely in your eyes?" a voice came from behind her.
"Why should my opinion matter? She is far more valued than I," Shanté replied sadly.
"Perhaps it matters very much to me," the voice coaxed.
"If she was not so delicate, her hair like rays of sunshine, her complexion so fair, and her proportions not so perfect, perhaps she could not be called the beauty of this country," Princess Shanté said tightly.
"Then, are you jealous?" the voice asked.
"No, I view her with much kindness. This is a hard day for her," Princess Shanté replied.
"And what of you?" the voice asked softly.
"If it was my wish, I'd not marry. I would sooner ride the countryside with my white horse Nephele than subject myself to such an institution as marriage. But as it is, I am betrothed to a man I have never seen. He is the groom's brother, from what I hear."
The deep voice was silent. Then it slowly spoke, "What is so wrong about marriage?"
"There is no love to the marriage I am doomed to walk. My betrothed is often away from his country. He could not come to the ceremonies because of it."
The Princess Shanté raised her jeweled goblet to her sister and toasted, "I truly wish you happiness and prosperity."
She drank down a third of the goblet and then turned only to find the man who asked the questions gone.
***
The wraiths sing and play too, but they are songs we do not sing and games we have forgotten how to play. The wraiths of innocence only play them, for they do not see what's wrong in playing such games in a garden of sadness.
The lone maiden who was blamed sits alone and cries without voice.
For that voice was silent when prince-brother killed brother-prince. It was speechless when brother-prince killed prince-brother. The voice quivered and cracked, still holding much beauty as it screamed and cried in agony.
Then at last the voice which had sang people to life was silenced.
A wizard came to her side as he watched both men fall.
"Do you believe your love to be true? If you think so deeply of him, sacrifice your voice to me as he sacrificed his life to you."
"But sir, my voice holds a part of me."
"Is it your identity?"
The maiden's eyes closed and tears fell. The voice could not remember its value. She was silenced.
"You may only earn it back if you go to the Black Mountains where the sun sets its head."
She nodded, though her speaking voice worked. Joy was around her though she could no longer sing it. She fled to her beloved.
***
A parade and cheering came from the streets. The Prince from the west had come! The Prince that was to marry the Princess Shanté!
People lined up to see this stately man, only to find that he did not appear. They waited and waited until night fell. Many grew impatient and went home.
Then the clomp of horse feet came. A hooded figure entered the palace with the clearance of the night shift.
The Princess was still confined to her chambers they said, pointing to a window with a candle still flickering.
The man looked up to see the maiden look down upon him.
He rode in and put his horse in the stable. As he did so, a sound came from the candlelit window. It was soft and moved him deeply. It spoke to his soul and he was sure he had heard it and stood there before, but could not remember the time or the place.
The stable boy looked at the man and said, "That is the Princess Shanté. She sings every night to the moon and stars."
"Ah, then the man that will marry her is quite lucky," the man replied.
"Oh no sir. She is quite defiant. She will not do as her mother wishes and is cross in all respects except when she sings."
"Is she a beauty?" the man asked.
"She is quite plain next to her sister Kashimi, but she does have some spots of beauty."
"I have seen Kashimi. I thought her quite boring to look upon," the man said.
"Do you have many beautiful women in your country sir?" the stable boy asked.
"Yes, many beautiful ones, but not one plain one. Say, what does the princess like to do besides sing?"
"Surely my tongue would be cut out if I told, sir," the stable hand replied.
The man flipped out two gold coins and carefully took out a silver which he carefully laid on top of the two coins head up.
The boy didn't take the money, but quickly answered, "Reading histories forbidden to women and riding, sire. I hear she is fond of archery too."
"Ahh, a woman of my own heart."
"Sire, should I go get the head chamber mistress?" the stable boy asked.
"The stable will suit me fine. I grew tired of fancy beds."
"As you wish, sire."
***
A soul stripped of expression. A heart that cannot speak. Surely that is the greatest sin of all.
This was what Shanté felt. The Princess Shanté could not sing anymore. She carried her sadness in this, for her not to be able to express in voice, was like an artist without a medium.
When she opened her mouth, it was silent.
The Prince Xaviar understood her sacrifice. She had not sold a piece of herself at all, she had sold her soul. As much as he held her in his arms, he could not in his heart let her stay there.
"My Princess, you must go to the Black Mountains."
"I know the ways of the wizard well. He will surely trick me and then you and I will be doomed."
"Perhaps, but I rather let you have your soul than for you to be with me."
He said this with much kindness and affection. The Princess Shanté could not refuse.
"Be I beast, demon, or witch, will you love me still?" she asked.
"Be you beast, demon, or witch, I will still love you as I always have."
"But will you recognize my soul?"
"Sing and I will know."
So she left the comforts of the castle and her Prince, but did not tell him of the life she carried in her. But only life that can be given if the mother has her soul, and so she departed.
***
It was as the meeting was wished to be. Quiet and very secret.
Princess Shanté was to defy her mother in all things to please the sad maiden in the garden. Her mother had ordered her daughter to love a man she did not know. She met the man with great disdain. Her mother watched with eagle eyes on the least of her daughter's defiance.
"Do I displease you that highly, Princess?" he asked.
"I have heard many disgraceful things attached to your family name and your person. Why should I not hold you in a little contempt?"
Queen Merana almost slapped her daughter, but instead held her hand in a tight fist until her knuckles turned white.
"Perhaps you should explain what you have heard and I will listen with an open mind and answer your concerns."
"Indeed, that is a wise answer, but these are not things for a mother to hear," she replied smoothly.
Queen Merana fumed, but soon left with her personal guards.
"Now that your mother has graciously left, will you explain my offenses?"
"I have heard of your brother exploiting many women and bedding many more. How come if a woman sleeps with one man other than the one she is to marry, she is condemned. Yet a man, such as your brother, can boast of more than 40 'exploits' and seductions before his wedding night and go unpunished?" she asked.
"I do see it quite ill-fated for such a man as that. The actions of my brother I cannot question. He is the elder of us and therefore claims rank," Prince Xaviar replied.
"I have heard of abuse of my sister," she said simply.
"I have not heard such rumors. Has your sister written you such things? I have heard however that she brings good tidings with news that she is with child."
"I have also heard you will not sleep in a bed and prefer men's company to that of a female's companionship. I have heard many things, which I do not care to list. It has not marked well on my character."
The defiant eyes which had fire in them turned to ice. She raised her head higher.
"My betrothed is man and not a woman," the Prince said in return.
"With such insults, why should I marry a man such as you?" she asked.
"Perhaps you have judged me too quickly. I may prefer sleeping in the stable with my horse and ride at night, but I do not mind a woman's company. I merely prefer not to sleep with women, but rather to charm them as I will. I had not slept with a woman for your sake. You are famed for your charm and grace. I would like to win your heart very much before our wedding day."
"I will be friends, no more," Princess Shanté said coldly.
"Princess Shanté Auget, I cannot accept a friend that would be so cold, or a lover that is a friend."
"Then I will merely say, 'no' on our wedding day," Princess Shanté replied.
"I have been polite, but you have been arrogant. I do not see what I did to deserve this behavior," he said annoyed.
"Prince Xaviar Kalanor, it would cause more pain if I was to love you and even more if your were to love me," Shanté said.
"You would want a contract of detachment?" he asked perplexed.
"Yes."
"Very well, Princess, but I must warn you, I have heard your voice and I could have sworn I heard it before. I loved that voice."
Prince Xaviar kissed Princess Shanté's hand and left. He felt a clear pang in his heart as he left the room.
Princess Shanté smiled.
***
The wraiths whispered and watched. The maiden was holding her knees and slowly rocking. The important lady. The lady who had brought them here.
They whispered of her journey. They whispered of her journey to the Black Mountains steep. The Black Mountains where the wizard slept. The wizard who had taken her voice. Taking her voice was a tragedy, surely, because they would not be there if they had heard her voice.
Her voice was lost to the wizard and so was her love.
She still felt love for the Prince Xaviar!
Oh, yes, but the curse made it impossible for her to love.
Yes, like a demon, surely you have heard?
Heard what?
What, you have not witnessed the tale of love.
Love is cliché.
Cliché or not, Love is important.
Important? Why?
Why should it not be? The wizard spoke blackly to her and cast her soul here. If she would sing again we would be freed.
Freed? But what does her voice contain?
Her soul. Before she went to the mountains steep she was silenced forever.
***
A hooded figure stood below the balcony again that night, and Princess Shanté noticed with interest. She stopped her voice and hailed him.
"Do I know you? Perhaps we once met."
He sang softly in a baritone and then in a tenor.
It was a love song she remembered hearing when she was seven. It was a silly song with a soft lullaby melody.
He stopped and looked up.
"Do you like it?"
She looked surprised, focused her eyes and saw the man to be Prince Xaviar. It was the man she was to marry.
"I confess I do, but I still think you a disgrace."
"And what of a maiden locked up in her chambers because of a long ago defiance to her mother?"
"Perhaps I have motives for such actions."
"And perhaps I have motives for mine."
"Mine are more worthy than yours."
"I would prefer to talk to you closer."
She glimmered her necklace a few times in the candlelight and dropped a knot ladder. She climbed down and faced the Prince.
"I am still to be despised," she said as the ladder mysteriously disappeared.
"I see, because you like taking moonlight walks with men you hate?" he asked, amused.
"It's not like that at all!" she objected feeling her cheeks turn red with anger.
He took her hand and tried to get her to move.
"We will be spotted if we do not move quickly," he said.
She complied and led him by hand into a damp passageway. She ducked her head as she entered. He soon followed without objection.
They ended up in an abandoned space that once was a beautiful garden, but was now overrun with weeds and ruins of the castle.
He took down his hood and looked at Shanté. He immediately admired her. In this light she shone. Her long lashes misted beautiful blue-violet eyes. Her cheek bones were high and her mouth looked more delicate and beautiful than when he saw her before.
To any other man she would look plain, but to Xaviar, he saw a fairy-maiden of the mists.
Dew quickly clung to her dress and hair. The illusion of her in this light and air was magnificent.
She quickly turned her violet eyes on him.
His mouth was gaping a little and admiration was filling his eyes. Etched on his face was love.
"What do you see?" she asked softly.
"Something to cherish for the rest of my life," Xaviar answered.
"Well, I can't stay for long. I have a request of you."
"A request? Speak it," he replied.
"To save us pain and not marry me."
"It is not my choice anymore than it is yours," he replied slowly touching her face with affection.
Her heart beat faster and she felt something stir within her. She turned away so that he would not see her tears.
"I know what you feel for me and it is wrong. I am no charm or beauty. I do not like my position or rank. It would be best if you were to persuade the powers that be that I am indeed unworthy of your love and tender affections," she said casting her eyes to the ground.
"I can do no such thing. This alliance was made before you or I were born."
She turned back to face him, looked up and said, "But I cannot love you."
Tears were streaming down her eyes and shimmering in the full moon.
Her skirt slowly settled and he saw pain. He felt it.
He left quickly. She bent down and cried.
***
Hearts quiver and the wraiths cried anguish over the soul that cried and would not sing.
Flowers in a crown, she left the place and kissed each forehead and nodded. A new wraith was to join her if she did not depart.
***
Laughter rang from behind Shanté. It was soft and almost mocking. From the cypress tree, it came.
Shanté turned to see a maiden in black, her face veiled. She was barely 13.
"Why do you laugh?" Shanté asked.
"You have cried a fortnight over a Prince you love. He loves you. I see great irony in that," the wraith replied.
"My mother said to love him. I follow a promise," Shanté replied.
The maiden gave a sardonic look and said, "So it is true, humans are idiots compared to wraith's knowledge."
Annoyed, Shanté asked, "What do you know that is so important?"
The wraith replied,
"Defy all that stands in your way
and happiness shall find your heart."
The wraith disappeared on the next whisper.
***
The hands were scratched and scabbed of unhealed wounds, but the Princess Shanté could not feel the wounds. She climbed with her destination in mind until she reached the Roof of the World. On the mountain peak lay a wizard-wise.
He held her voice in crystal and tapped it to make a sound pure.
I have come. You promised me my voice.
You will have to earn it back.
I have sacrificed my life and my soul to you and you ask for more.
In years hence you will need to take a journey.
What service must I pay you?
You must care for me until I die naturally. To make sure you do not break the bond, I make you with demon bane.
I am with child. I cannot do this without knowing it's safe.
It will not be born if the mother has no soul. It will not be born with demon bane curse.
The Princess Shanté slowly agreed knowing her baby within her was a boy. One in the image of his father and the wit and wisdom of his mother. For him and her love she consented. For him and her love she would die.
***
"Will you marry me for love?"
A scream issued from lips and the pain set in. Oh so much pain.
"Much hardship lies in love, but I will."
There was too much blood. Too much blood. There should never be blood like this on a day of joy.
"You are still wary of me?"
The scream issued again from a sweaty face. She was so young and thin. Poor beauty was weak.
"Yes, very."
No cry from the child. Signs appeared on the womens' chests. They held their symbols. The babe was blue. The mother suffered no more. A breath did not come from her lips. The mumbling grew louder as one left to tell the news.
The news traveled faster on the wind than by horse. The newly wed princess was dead. Her son was stillborn.
"I do not see the why's involved."
White stained with blood. The first omen came. Queen Merana screamed her agony and tore at her hair.
"Much misfortune lies in our love."
The insanity wore in her eyes and she cried her anguish over her favorite child dead. Dead by her own son. It was a bad omen to be killed by an innocent.
"You do love me then?"
Her heart clenched and the servants all around her were afraid of Queen Merana. Her eyes were vacant and her movement erratic. Princess Kashimi was dead by boy-child born dead.
"I do, but I still see much trouble in our love. Do not be encouraged by it."
There was no heir to the throne. The Crown Prince needed a princess married to him with a male child to inherit the throne. In his amorous affairs he had left many illegitimate children, all daughters. He must secure his manhood to secure the throne. True princess Kashimi was beautiful, but she had died.
"You still are cold and unfeeling."
"I feel the winds changing. Bad omens are coming," Princess Shanté said.
***
Pain rippled across Shanté's stomach and she feared for a lost child. The wizard ensured her that the babe was human and safe, just not used to not growing.
"When someone sees no future they often wish to die... It is the way of things. You lose hope, and you lose your future. Mystery weaves it all. Learn these things. You must learn."
"All I remember is that you stole from me three times what did not belong to you, and then you stole me."
"I am doing you a favor you will forget and not know," the wizard replied.
The demon bane was on her. She often visited her love when she could, but she could not get near him. She would start to transform, and her middle would clench in revulsion.
She talked often to let him hear she was alive, but soon had to run away in tears.
The wizard finally gave her voice but kept the spell on her. She sang and sang until the mountains rang with her voice, but something was missing from it.
Something that kept the voice pure was not there. She heard it too, and though her voice was beautiful, it was not enough to let her love know she truly existed. It was trying to play a broken instrument.
She used it in frustration trying to sing to her babe not-yet born. She sang and sang until she could not sing.
The wizard watched and smiled as he got weaker and weaker.
"A lifetime of sadness
A lifetime of sorrow
everything will be fixed on the morrow
love fated will rise
the babe will be born
all will be saved
and the roads silver-paved."
And he died forgetting to give the cure to the demon bane.
***
The rain came down outside the windows as if the sky felt for the death of mother and child. Many heads had cloths of white covering them.
Princess Shanté did not cry. She did not mourn. She did not cheer. She felt nothing inside. She remembered Kashimi's kindness. She remembered the hope that she carried inside. But all she could think of was how small Kashimi looked inside the box. How thin her hands were. She remembered the paleness of Kashimi and the lines of pain in the corner of her eyes.
She watched the face as the glass was covered with dirt. She felt empty and distant towards the object. Kashimi had always been beautiful. She always would be to Shanté.
Shanté's feet were walking towards the cypress tree. She looked around, only to see a woman much like Kashimi sitting with her knees to her chest eating an apple.
But it was spring. Apples wouldn't be in season until fall.
"You must marry your betrothed's brother, unless your mother advises it."
"I am tormented by wraiths and your commands to me. I cannot help my heart, nor can I change his. You said I was destined to him, yet I must ignore this."
Tears ran down the wraith's eyes as she put the apple neatly in her lap.
"It is not easy from where I stand, but remember your position. Your sister has died, and though you may not think it, there will be war over her death, unless you placate the brother that has never known love."
"Yes, to save a country but not my soul," Shanté said bitterly.
"All will work out if you follow this."
The wraith rubbed her own upper arm before she faded away.
***
There was neither light or darkness in the place of the wraiths. They talked and played with no sense of light or dark because the definition didn't exist, therefore neither light nor dark could ever prevail.
The light that was felt was from a freed soul. But the wraiths had none.
The dark was from a condemned soul.
But the wraiths had none.
A wraith combed her own blond hair and pondered about her release.
All was going well except for in one place. That of the heart. The brother-prince had fallen for the Princess of voice. She must then marry prince-brother.
In this space, she found that even she could not wish harm to the princess of voice. She still remembered and in her remembrance she often rubbed the wounds that were not there.
But she oriented herself in the neither dark or light and fled in many colors of joy.
***
The command came for the change in plans. Prince Xaviar was far away and sent a picture of himself for Princess Shanté. He was aware that she was debating a change of heart.
"Surely the nose is too large," one of the handmaidens giggled.
"I do not think he's that gallant looking," said another.
"I think the whole thing looks mighty contrived," Shanté said.
"Is he better looking face to face, sire?" one asked.
"Certainly not so static as that atrocity," the handmaidens all giggled.
"Is this how you spend your hours?" Queen Merana said from the doorway dressed in black. The collar was high and not of any proper fashion. Proper ladies showed their necks.
"Mother, do you have to intrude?"
"It is of an important matter."
"Yes, I can see that," Princess Shanté replied coldly.
"You will marry the Crown Prince."
"I will not!" the Princess Shanté said.
"He needs an heir. You will marry him."
"No!" Princess Shanté yelled.
Queen Merana looked shocked and left.
Irene put a hand on Princess Shanté and said, "Perhaps you love Prince Xaviar more than you confess."
"Not when the man drools," Princess Shanté said smiling.
All the handmaidens except for Irene burst out laughing.
***
Perhaps, perhaps she'd done wrong. Her body ached from years relived. She suffered. Really suffered.
Her mind wandered again. She stared at her hands. They were hardened from work when she looked, but in this place they looked soft to any other. They were hardened to her. Work always had a price.
And so in the years that she was gone and the spell still upon her, the Prince Xaviar became King Xaviar of a broken two kingdoms. Two broken, both lost. To fire, blood and hatred once both sought.
A creature appeared in the skies many times. His heart was broken from a lost wife. He could not see into the demon's eyes.,
And there was failure of the promise. He could not look the demon in the eyes and read its soul.
The demon was tired and much abused. The kingdoms she loved were lost. The heir she was to bear could not be born. Her love did not recognize her. She loved, but felt none. The voice she cast as her soul was missing her soul.
She was tired. She was so very tired. Much work had been done. Her hands were rough and dry.
She looked at her hands and cried. Much, much more had to be done.
***
Request being denied, the Prince came to the country who flew the white banner. Soon Prince Xaviar followed. Both kingdoms were in despair. Duty was coming before the matters of the heart.
Heart was always in valor, but not in the politics held. So Xaviar came to Shanté late at night to her balcony to talk once more. She sent a signal and came with him to discuss what was being done.
"You refused his offer. Perhaps you credit him with bad traits," Xaviar whispered.
"If it must be done, then he should say it to my face, as you are to me. But as I know he has no decency to do so, I have refused him."
She sat with her hands on her lap neatly folded.
He took those hands and said, "It is true that I love. It is also true that you love also. But I cannot stand in the way of my brother's pride. I am a brother before I am a prince."
"You do this to defend his pride?" Shanté asked in much fury.
"I have to as I am his kin."
"Do you not think that my pride would be stung by such a match? Is man more important than woman?" she asked.
"I cannot help it, but our needs interfere with more than him. It involves many people."
She looked away and knew it was true.
She whispered quietly, "Then the love between us is truly hopeless. It always was meant to be?"
A hand touched her face. She found her violet eyes looking into his blue eyes.
"We cannot express our love anymore, but I still can feel it. You are wise enough for the both of us. Perseverance is a thing that happens through patience. I cannot fight a war when it means the lives of your and my people."
"I do not want to comply," Shanté answered sadly, knowing what he said was also true for her.
"People's lives come before my personal happiness. You are strong as no woman I have known before."
A spirit entered with understanding.
She whispered, "My Xaviar never said such a thing for me and wanted to defend my honor."
"You would not defend my honor?" Shanté asked.
"You are strong enough on your own," Xaviar said with much faith.
"I still have him inside me. Give him a soul," the spirit said.
"What if I refuse to lie with him?" Shanté asked.
"I would not usurp my brother to have a son."
"This is Xaviar I knew before he killed his brother," the wraith said quietly.
"I do not wish for the throne. I wish not to be a princess," Shanté said bitterly.
"Wishes are hope-filled dreams of the now. These are not tangible."
"Then we are done on this night?" Shanté asked.
"Yes for now," Xaviar replied.
The wraith disappeared.
***
Xaviar bent over his wife's dead body and held it one last time before she was placed into the dirt.
"I did not love her enough," he said.
"You loved her too much," his friend replied.
"She was not the strong sort."
"You defended her honor because of that," his green-eyed friend replied.
"She whispers to me still in her insistence that times will change. She explains it to me. Her other self will believe her."
"She was a sorceress," his friend said simply.
"A woman that loved too much."
"As you loved her."
"I could not see her in the end. I could not see her soul. Was our love true?"
"A wraith's wish is binding. Only the wraiths know."
***
Princess Shanté was married to her ex-betrothed's brother. There was no smile as they were joined for life. She faked sickness and refused to eat upon coming to the Crown Prince's kingdom.
He cared neither way and avoided treading through the door. She neither invited him nor wished to fulfill his desire for the crown. He took his share of women in his own chambers to release his own needs.
Xaviar never visited and she did not wish it. Too much pain and heartache lay in his memory.
When it finally occurred to the Crown Prince that perhaps he should get started on an heir, Shanté's father died, which called her to come to her kingdom to be at his side. Her husband had no rights until the kingdom was secure with a son.
She came suddenly accustomed to moonlight walks late into the night upon her return. The Crown Prince could not command her to stay in her bed as were the laws of her kingdom, which she still was bound to until she bore an heir.
It was finally up to Prince Xaviar to convince Princess Shanté to bear an heir for the Kingdoms.
She said to him, "I will not bear an heir for your brother. I will for you, but not your brother.
"Our days of love are over. My father is dying now. I cannot give him comfort until he knows that his kingdom is secure. When I mentioned perseverance, I did not mean stubbornness."
"You would make a better king for my kingdom than he," Princess Shanté said dancing around treason against her husband.
"I never wished for the crown," Prince Xaviar said with annoyance.
"Which is why you should have it!" she replied.
Xaviar could not argue with a woman that he once loved, but his heart said he still loved. He could not listen to his heart anymore for it battled greatly, so he left Shanté to her own means.
So Shanté was left with her husband, and he angry for her defiance often sulked and tried many times to teach discipline. It was the way of things. It was the way of things that women obeyed. She should obey Him and give Him an heir to inherit both kingdoms.
He tried to get her with force. Purple and black lined her body, but he had no success. In his failure he chose to have more women in his chambers to vent his frustration. But it did not satisfy his need.
The king of the two brothers was weak and had very little life left to him. His heart was breaking and clenching as hope of an heir left his body.
But it happened that Prince-brother died before his father's time. It happened that an errant hunting arrow pierced him and the wound became infected. Though he recovered from the infection, he was left weak and eventually died.
Soon after Shanté married Xaviar. They had a son. Soon after the birth, the king of the two brothers died. The son grew up happy, but Shanté's and Xaviar's love was not what it once had been, or what it could have been. Though they loved each other greatly, the soul and importance of the love was gone.
So she sang with soul, but sacrifices were made to free wraiths and let her own go free.
posted by Rachel Udin | 8:10 PM
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