Dozens of hawks soared down and perched at the edge of the Konlavviak Castle roof.
“A final illusion, child, before I depart.”
At first Onnylya thought Brezz Lyttian meant simply that he had summoned the birds for her to enjoy, knowing that she loved birds.
Then the youngest wizard and the last banished from Konlavv after the lengthy tribunal produced a purple Twelarrian, the petals seeming to wink at the young princess.
Staring at the flower Onnylya wanted to march down to her father’s quarters and demand Brezz be allowed to stay in the mountain stronghold.
A window burst open.
Vatt and Myre, Onnylya’s two monstrous,mute Gaddiun bodyguards stiffened.
Both the men flexing their muscles seemed to stir the air in the room.
Brezz didn’t flinch, just turned calmly and said “It’s part of the illusion her majesty requested,” though the princess hadn’t specified any specific illusion.
The bipedal behemoths seemed to slightly soften, though their eyes were on the open window.
I could kidnap the princess much more easily than this, should I have chosen that route, Brezz thought.
Brezz pulled a petal from the flower and threw it sidearm at a closed window.
Despite the breeze from the open window, the petal flew as though it was a pancake the King was dissatisfied with at the breakfast table, and it struck the window.
The petal seemed to drip , forming letters, then sentences.
A glimmer of delight exploded from Onnylya’s face, then she turned, staring at the bodyguards in terror.
Brezz smiled at her.
“Zee vaxxon cam lausen Ettre,Kootalla, vang.
The wizard spoke ancient Konlavva to the young girl, a language she had learned to perform court society duties and rituals of hospitality.
“The big guys can’t read or understand this language, highness.”
“Paten porvo cuslamma vaxxi.”
“It looks like a drawing to them.”
Onnylya visibly relaxed and turned back to the page of writing on the window.
She shook and pivoted toward Brezz.
“But my father…”
Conversing in the ancient tongue, the young wizard explained that water would wash the words away.
“Your father announces his presence, does he not, he does not just barge into your quarters?”
Picking up on what was happening, the princess spoke in ancient Konlavv.
“He is respectful of me.”
“Good.”
The wizard presented the young girl with the flower.
“This flower contains an entire book. Throw the petals against the window and read the books one page at a time. If your father shows up in your quarters simply splash water on the window and the words will disappear. This particular book is an oral history of the land before your family ruled.”
Onnylya read the words on the window aloud, occasionally looking over her shoulder at the Gaddiuns, who were no longer tense. They saw only images of ponies in the letters thanks to Brezz’s deft magic.
“When the petals of this flower are gone, step to the window I have opened, open it and call “Stryekk, stryekk, Loodiya!”
A hawk flew from the edge of the roof to the window ledge and dropped another purple Twellarian on the sill.
Brezz picked it up and set it in the vase.
“Read one book at a time, petal by petal. They are histories and poems and lessons and geography.”
“My father would–” Onnylya began in the common tongue before reverting to the ancient language.
“Ke Vazza donk zirri te dattira moota.”
“My father would have you killed for giving me books.”
Onnylya said it with empathy and worry.
Brezz smiled.
“I do not fear your father,” he said and Onnylya was briefly embarrassed at how poorly she spoke her own ancient tongue compared to the magician.
“When you read the books, you will no longer fear him. Do not summon too many books at once, child, should your father suspect an unapproved suitor courts you.”
“I must leave. Thank you for granting the audience. You will one day replace your father as ruler.”
Brezz Lyttian said it as though one might say “leaves drop from the trees in the fall.”
Onnylya was shocked.
“Women do not rule Konlavv. Father will expect me to choose a–”
“Read the books on the glass of your window and the Wizard’s Council is confident you will choose a different path than the one expected of you. We have great admiration for you.”
“What if my father discovers I am reading books?”
Brezz tightened the drawstrings of his traveling cloak.
“Tell your father they are my doing, and he can travel to Jula’Kye to discuss it with me.”
Onnylya smiled.
“Where will you really be, wizard?”
Brezz let his eyebrows drop and looked into the girl’s eyes.
“Jula’Kye. Again, I do not fear your father. The Wizards accepted the banishment because in this manner and only in this manner will the prophecy of Feh Nok Konlavv come true.”
“The Warrior Scribe of Feh Nok Konlavv is a child’s nighttime tale,” Onnylya said.
Brezz drew his cloak tighter and did an inventory of the contents of his pockets and his pack, both enchanted and mundane.
“Read as many of the books as you can, Pillya’Vindarra.”
Onnylya blushed. She had never been called “Great One” before.
Brezz Lyttian bowed, fist to heart, like a soldier.
He knew he was in the presence of the Warrior Scribe of Feh Nok Konlavv, though the princess herself did not yet know it was she.
Brezz sensed the footsteps on the stairs, though Onnylya did not.
He turned and exited the room.
“Thank you, Brezz,” Onnylya called after him.
The Wizard met the King and his two swordsmen on the stairs.
“That was an awfully long time to perform a simple illusion for my daughter, heretic. I trust not your kind.”
“Apologies, sire. I accept my banishment without question. Please forgive me for going to great lengths to appease the princess before I made my leave.”
“If any blasphemies were performed, you and your horse will be dead before you reach the border.”
The swordsmen both eagerly unsheathed their weapons.
“My word, sire,” the wizard said with a deep bow, pinkie finger reaching into a pouch at his waist.
“Wizard’s words are almost always blasphemy.”
From above, Onnylya giggled.
The King, glared at Brezz. “Be off. “
He then stepped down the hall and called “Daughter?”
Onnylya called “Come see, Daddy.”
Brezz Lyttian made his way down the stairs as King Durdak Vin Kovv opened his daughter’s bedroom door to find a golden statue of a jester, life sized, holding a pitcher of water.
***
Note: Fantasy is my favorite subgenre of fiction. While I rarely indulge in it on Substack, writing this one made me really happy.
You never know what a wizard might do. A fine tale that seems set to continue through the princess’ lifetime.
Love it.