Princess Moments

The Trial of the Torch

By Brianna Mann

The edges of the linen parchment were becoming even more worn as I ran my fingers once again across the embossed seal adorning the crest of the allied kingdoms. I’d practically memorized the message enclosed by now. Nevertheless, I could not help but sneak one final peek at the contents within the letter before I’d be escorted to the Feast of Fire prior to the start of the Trial of the Torch.

 

Province of Elmira,

We humbly request the presence of a courageous young maiden to undertake the labors of the Trial of the Torch. The honor of such a tribute shall therefore reconcile the covenant between the nations and alleviate the curse from those of the dragonborn bloodline.

Whichever maiden emerges from the trials with a dragonborn shall seal a covenant alliance between their nations.

We eagerly await your response and presence for the Trial of the Torch.

                                                                                    Sincerely,

                                                                                    The Kingdoms of the Dragonborns

 

The words seemed so deceptively regal in contrast to the truth that was known surrounding the Trial of the Torch. They conveyed great glory and valor, yet the reality was sobering to the mere promise of alliance and security. As the eldest of four daughters, I had been aware that the “privilege” would most certainly fall upon me to take up the request from the Dragonborn Kingdoms. When Father had offered the position up to all of us sisters, I was utterly appalled. Without hesitation, I had snatched the letter from his grasp and dissolved any discussion before it could be had. I knew that participating would grant me the same fate as a lamb headed off to the slaughter.

It was the tenth anniversary of the Trial of the Torch, and the amount of kingdoms participating was beginning to dwindle. Neither I nor my siblings had been born when the previous Trial had commenced, but I had heard and read enough stories pertaining to the tradition to know that the survival rate of all the parties involved was rare.

A sharp knock on my door tore me from my thoughts. “It’s time, Lady Amara,” chimed the timid voice of Rosette, the young maiden that had been assigned to assist me in getting dressed for the feast.

Tentatively, I made my way to the door. With one final deep breath, I pushed through.

“Oh, my lady,” Rosette exclaimed. “You look simply divine.”

I tried to give her a smile in reply, but I was quite certain my face was stuck in a grimace. “Thank you, Rosette. It’s all a credit to your workmanship.” I glimpsed at the attire she had adorned me in earlier this morning. Burgundy cascaded around my ankles, several flowing layers of material gliding across the floor with my every move. Formal wear was not something I often adorned back home. I had to practically beg Rosette to allow me to hide my favorite riding boots beneath the sea of dark red—simply for a sense of comfort and as a reminder of my own self-worth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the movement of a new figure. He was dressed in some of the finest armor I had ever seen. It was so sleek and shiny, as if it had never even seen the battlefield once in its lifetime. Rosette curtsied to me once more and skirted away down some other corridor.

“This way,” the man grumbled.

My gaze was so fixated on studying the swirling pattern in the marble flooring that I barely had time to stop myself before colliding with the stoic guardsman serving as my guide. Another guard was exchanging quick, whispered words with him. His face grew distressed and any snippets of his voice that I caught seemed out of breath.

“Change of plans,” grunted the guardsman who had been escorting me toward the main dining hall.

My brows furrowed in confusion, but before I could utter a reply he continued, “Straight to the carriage.”

I ran his words through my mind once more. Then, panic permeated throughout the entirety of my very being. We were going to the carriage already? “What happened to the annual Feast of Fire?” I breathed as I halted my footsteps.

He glowered, clear irritation spreading across his face. “Change of plans,” he repeated, gruffly. His grip twitched upon the hilt of his sword as he motioned me forward with his other hand.

The only sound now was the sharp clicks against the stark marble floor as our steps hurried toward the entryway where the carriage waited. I didn’t even have time to marvel at the beauty of the palace, for soon I found myself shoulder to shoulder with the other “courageous young maidens” who were forsaken to the same fate as I.

None of us spoke as the carriage swayed along the path. I assessed my “competition.” Many wore forlorn expressions, as did I. Yet there were a few that dawned a sense of smugness. Perhaps they hailed from provinces that trained their young to participate in this weary Trial.

Before I knew it, the carriage slowed, and several guards herded us into a small clearing. At the far end stood tall stone pillars with different symbols etched into the sides, their familiarity was eerie.

“The dragonborns’ beasts are already beginning to stir. The Trial of the Torch shall commence immediately this year,” voiced a juvenile looking redhead beside me. “I’ve heard that one of the princes already lost their battle to their beast and they’ve had to be contained until they can release them within the Wood.”

“What about our head start?” I interrupted.

“There are whispers that it’ll be much shorter than the Trials of the past,” the girl shrugged, “at least it’s something.”

Before I could inquire about her name, a booming voice came from between the looming pillars.

“At the sound of the third gong the Trial of the Torch shall commence and you, valent tributes, will enter the Wood. You will face several trials and encounter creatures unlike those you have met in the outside world. Whoever emerges victorious with a dragonborn by their side by crossing through the Valley of Shadows and departing through the matching pillars on the other side will secure their alliance and earn unspeakable honor,” claimed the guard who had “accompanied” me to the carriage.

Without any other word, the gong began to sound. I stood, almost frozen in place; unable to comprehend what was happening. I felt a brief pressure upon my elbow before the redhead sprinted past me toward the pillars.

“At the sound of the third gong,” ran through my mind, and without even having time to register what would happen next, I found myself taking off after the herd of women in front of me.

I could almost feel the reverberations from the gong in my body as I sprinted deep into the wooded area. The dragonborn would be unleashed soon, and all I could hope to do was find the exit to this dreaded labyrinth before they could find me, or before something else did. As I ran, I continued to repeat to myself the mantra I decided upon the first moment I laid eyes upon that dreaded invitation, “All you need to do is survive.”

Crossing into the Wood seemed deceivingly peaceful. It was midday, so the forest was illuminated by beams of light that snuck through the canopies created by the tall oaks and towering pines.

Gradually, my steps slowed as I shifted into a longer stride walking pace. Finding resources would be essential if I were to have any chance of surviving the first night. I listened for any indication of water, but every so often the hem of my gown would snag on some small sapling, slowing my progress and filling me with a great sense of irritation.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but finally, in between breaths, I could make out the faint trickling of a stream.

Slowly, the sound of running water grew louder and louder as I continued forward. I pushed through a thicket of dense Russian olives to reveal a small bank that cascaded to a gently flowing stream. Relief consumed me as I bounded the rest of the way through the thorns and brush to collapse at the side of the freshwater source.

The chill of the water helped to refresh me almost immediately. I knew I would have to keep moving if I stood any chance of escaping the Wood, yet I tried to force myself to gingerly take sips of the freshwater to restore my energy.

The sound of rustling leaves instantly snapped my gaze up from the peaceful waters below. Across the waterway stood a gigantic creature, its body marred with large slashes and abrasions; so deeply scarred within its flesh that I had to assume they had adorned them for many, many years. I had never seen a dragonborn up close, but this being seemed to be more beastly than sentient. Its cold, glassy eyes gazed upon my position by the water’s edge. It almost seemed as though they were looking right through me. I remained frozen, rooted to the ground.

Suddenly, the elder dragonborn whipped its head to the side, as if it had heard something I had not.

I ran.

A guttural roar echoed throughout the forest. My legs carried me as fast as they possibly could, twigs swiped against my arms, legs, and cheeks. One misstep was all it took to send my body hurtling toward the forest floor.

The ground felt alive, dancing as the beast clambered its way closer and closer to my figure.

Out of nowhere, a strong grasp yanked me back onto my feet and together we took off in the opposite direction of the beast. Even after finding my footing, I was barely able to keep up with the strides of the man beside me. There was no doubt in my mind that this man was one of the Dragonborn princes, sentenced to compete in the Trials like the rest of us. My mind had little time to comprehend the reasoning behind my rescue, nor how he even knew I was in need of such a service, for we had entered a clearing and were rapidly nearing the edge of a ledge. My steps began to falter.

Just before we hit the end of solid ground, I released my hand from his and came to an abrupt stop. Peering over the edge, I could not see anything; everything was encapsulated in the gray of fog. The prince paused too, his brow furrowed slightly as he glanced between me and the threat behind us.

“We have to jump,” he breathed, still panting slightly from our escapade through the forest.

I tried to utter a response, but before I could protest further, he turned, leapt over the ledge, and stated, “They can’t fly.”

I stared at the empty space before me, dumbfounded. With one final roar that sent shivers down my spine, I leapt after my bold companion into the unknown.

The splash of cool water was an unexpected shock of relief. The gentle waves caused by the crashing falls slowly guided me to the side of a new riverbank where the prince waited for me, arms extended to help me out of the water.

Once ashore, I couldn’t help but assess him. The prince was quite tall for a man, but perhaps that was due to the beast that resided within him. His tawny complexion seemed to glow as the sun set behind the mountain which we had just fled. His chopped, onyx hair didn’t even seem saturated from our tumble into the pool just moments ago. Yet, it was the faint, golden glow from his eyes that captured all of my attention.

“We’d better find a place to camp.” The prince sighed as he turned and stalked toward the thin patch of woods that lined the river. My cheeks burned slightly as I realized I had most likely made the man who saved my life uncomfortable with my staring.

It wasn’t long before the prince had stopped and began to gather small, dried twigs. I quickly followed suit, trying to be of any assistance to convey my utmost gratitude toward this stranger.

He worked tactfully, and soon enough we had positioned ourselves next to the warmth of the flames. For a while, we simply sat, surrounded by the peace of silence; occasionally filled with crackles of the fire before us.

“Thank you,” I whispered, daring to meet those amber eyes once again. “I am more grateful than words could profess, Your Highness.”

The prince scowled at this statement, “Please, just call me Desmond.”

Desmond. It felt too informal, but I didn’t want to offend him after all he had done for me today. “My name is Amara,” I replied.

The silence filled the space between us, until Desmond spoke so softly that I had to lean in to hear him, “You were very brave.”

My eyes met his and I could see the gentleness encapsulated in his golden gaze. “I tried earlier to help another maiden, but she was consumed with fear, and I was too late.” Now he was unable to meet my gaze. My heart lurched, for him, and the poor soul who had fallen victim to this dreaded Trial.

“I don’t want to be a monster,” he whispered, his voice thick with brokenness. I recalled the elder dragonborn we narrowly escaped earlier, and it pained me to think about the fate that may await Desmond—should he fail to escape the Trial. There were no words of comfort to be had between us. We both knew our fates. Our survival of this Trial was very slim. We saw proof of such today.

            “I think you should take this,” Desmond muttered as he unlatched his sword belt and held it out to me.

            I stood, staring, bewildered that he would even offer it to me, and by the fact that the maidens were not given this privilege for the Trial.

“I trust you with it more than I do myself.” He sighed, arm still extended with the sword in hand.

“I’m,” I hesitated. “I’m not sure about this Your High- Desmond, you were granted a weapon for the Trial, not I.”

His eyes softened as he approached where I was standing, “Please Amara, I don’t even need it. Take it for yourself. I promise you, I will try my best to get you out of here one way or another, whether that way involves me or not.”

The corners of my lips turn down into a frown. “I will only take it if you promise me that we will both get out of this dreaded place together.”

Desmond ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “You know I can’t—”

“I promise I will not leave your side. So, like it or not, we are finishing this together, one way or another. I owe you that much at least.”

“You owe me nothing,” he murmured, then sighed in defeat. “I promise that we will get through this, one way or another,” he trailed off as I accepted the sword from his hand.

Desmond helped me fasten his baldric to my waist. Then, the two of us settled beside the flames and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

Early morning came faster than desired, but we had managed to make it through the night without any other run-ins with elders. I was slightly optimistic as we set out, seeking, as Desmond had informed me, the only gateway to flee the Trial, the Valley of Shadows.

We continued for several hours, stopping every so often for me to rest. I hoped it wasn’t a bother to Desmond who was almost machine-like, never seeming to need a rest. As we walked along, I asked Desmond various things, trying to learn more about life as a dragonborn.

“How do you know where we are supposed to go?” I questioned.

“I suppose it’s instinctual,” he explained. “It’s part of the reason I was able to find you so easily. The dragon within has the urge to find and protect the maidens within the forest. Perhaps deep down they know you all are our only hope for redemption.”

“Redemption?”

“Have you ever heard the story as to why we partake in the Trial of the Torch?” He paused his steps, bewilderment crossing his face.

I tried to think back to any conversations I had with anyone from home about the Trial. Every time it was mentioned, we were only given vague details. I really never knew what to expect.

I shook my head in response.

This did not alleviate the expression upon his face as he revealed the truth to me. “The eldest dragonborn sons from each bloodline inherited the dragon trait and were cursed for breaking the covenant they had originally established with the mundane families of our great land, Elmira. Now, the only way we may be granted redemption is if we reestablish the covenant with one from the bloodline of one of the mundane families that were wronged many years ago.”

Desmond’s words provided many answers, but also left me with lingering questions. I looked around our surroundings, as if to try to find the right words to say, the right questions to ask, but I was immediately drawn to the sight before me.

Just beyond the tree line to our left was the beginning of rocky walls that grew into a vast valley. The perfect pathway toward our final destination. Our salvation. Somehow, we had finally made it.

I turned, a grin plastered across my face, only for my expression to morph into one of horror.

“Amara, you need to go,” he growled out as he remained bent over, consumed by pain.

“No,” I uttered, panic filling my voice. “No, Desmond, please—” I began, staggering toward his contorted figure. This could not be the end, it simply couldn’t. We were so close. So, so close to the end, the pillars stood tall and unmoving; taunting us from the distance that lay between us and them.

“Go!” he shouted. Fear began to coarse through my veins for Desmond’s voice was no longer his own. All I could do was stare, eyes pleading with his molten gold ones.

My gaze was fixed upon the gruesome sight before me. The agony etched upon his face was unbearable to watch. The man was trying to tame the beast inside, but there was no stopping the beast at this moment. He’d been fighting it off for too long. Our time had finally run out.

Desmond’s expression looked so pained, yet no sound escaped his lips. I longed to soothe him, while at the same time I was petrified of the beast that was breaking through the surface.

My heartbeat reverberated throughout my body.

My fingers twitched and found comfort upon the hilt of the sword. The promise I had made with myself yet again raced throughout my thoughts. “All you need to do is survive.”

My grip tightened as I slid the sword from its leather hilt, the very sword Desmond had bestowed upon me to protect myself in case he was no longer able to.

I glanced down at the etched pattern that adorned the Damascus steel blade. A ghastly screech rang throughout the air, bouncing off the walls, ringing again and again. Before I knew it, flames licked the toes of my boots. The heat was almost unbearable. I staggered back several steps, sword clenched within my grasp.

Desmond was gone and, in his place, stood a creature with dark, ridged scales, swirling up toward the most captivating, yet fear instilling face. His fangs were like enormous pearlescent swords, ones that could effortlessly slice through any surface. Heat radiated off his muzzle, a faint glow emitted from beneath his jaw, as though he were a torch just waiting to catch the right amount of wind to further fuel the flame within. Yet, as soon as I found his eyes, Desmond’s eyes, my iron grip on the sword faltered.

The gentle amber glow of his eyes was the exact same shade I’d witnessed that night when we were brutally honest beside the campfire. They were the same they had been at our very first encounter fleeing from the elder in the highlands of the Wood.

At that moment, I vaguely registered what came next. The clang of my sword clashing against the earth grounded me in my realization. Desmond was still here with me. He had never even left me in the first place.

Desmond’s broken words flooded my mind, “I don’t want to be a monster.”

I wasn’t sure if it had been minutes or mere seconds, but I had made up my mind.

“I shall not be afraid,” I murmured to myself as I shuffled a few steps forward, toward my dear companion. The sound of a snort sent my steps into a slight stutter, but I pushed on.

I dared to meet his eye and recognized that he too was feeling what I had been moments before, fear.

A low warning growl hummed against the cavern walls.

“I am not afraid,” I declared with more power beneath my voice. “I will never fear, for you are right beside me.” My strides had increased now and suddenly I was within an arm’s length of Desmond’s dragon form.

“You have never deserted me. It has always been you beside me, Desmond.” My eyes pleaded for him to accept me as I had accepted him, completely and fully.

He stared back at me with the same fierce intensity, and I knew our wordless exchange was conclusive.

Our brief moment of solace was shattered by yet another ghastly roar echoing throughout the Valley of Shadows. Both Desmond and I looked at one another, eyes wide. My legs were in motion instantly as we both raced toward the pillars.

Desmond’s expansive stride allowed him to already be positioned in front of the pillars. I pushed myself harder, desperate to cross through the portal. Our salvation.

Desmond let out a shriek, terror evident in his eyes. Time seemed to slow, and my vision began to blur as my left shoulder was overcome with a warm, tingling sensation. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a darker burgundy begin to soak through the sleeve of my dress, as I staggered the final steps toward Desmond. The last thing I recalled was the smoothness of Desmond’s snout making contact with me.

Bright. Too bright. Cheers, whistles, and applause filled the void around me, but my eyes struggled to adjust to the light of day. Had it really been that gloomy and overcast in the Wood?

“Oh, Amara!” squealed a voice that seemed out of place. Its familiarity told me it belonged to my sister, Arabelle. “You did it! I knew you could.” She beckoned behind her and shortly I was surrounded by a sea of friendly faces, a chorus full of praise.

Although, their words were simply numbing to me. I did not want praise. I searched the sea of endless faces for Desmond. There was no sign of him nor the portal. Every which way I turned I was surrounded by people—more like strangers—who knew nothing of the pain we had withstood in the Trial.

As the moments right before I fell through the portal came back to me, I checked my shoulder, the one that had been wounded. There was nothing physically wrong with it at all. No trace of any injury.

Carefully, I knelt upon the ground, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through me. I wept. I wept for Desmond. I wept for myself. I wept for the maidens lost, trapped within the Wood. I wept for the Elders, consumed by their beast after years and years of torment. The thought made me grieve even more so for Desmond. What fate would succumb him now?

All at once, the warmth of a hand was placed ever so delicately upon my shoulder.

“I’ll always be right beside you, remember?”

Tears blurred my vision, but there was no mistaking that voice. No words were needed as I sprang up and enveloped his figure within a fierce embrace.

“How?” I choked into his chest, failing miserably at trying to calm myself.

            He caressed my cheek, slightly lifting it so I could once again melt into his golden gaze. “It’s all because of you, Amara.” He pulled me closer, foreheads touching, eyes closed. “You could have, should have run from me. Yet here we are.”

Against all odds, we had overcome the Trial of the Torch. It was so improbable, but we surpassed each obstacle, together.         

“I shall never fear, for you are right beside me,” I whispered, contently wrapped within the embrace of the one I love.