The High Queen Sorceress (complete)
Author: jessicaw

Chapter 2
Chapter 2

Dana’s dress shimmered in the sun. The light pink against her white skin made her look like a doll. The golden hues at the base of her dress appeared to sparkle. She sighed as she stood slumped over the white balcony, one arm tucked under her breast, the other propping her up under her chin. It was a beautiful day. She loved beautiful days.        

“Your Majesty” a voice said from behind her. She whirled around, startled, and the long, wing-like sleeves of her dress floated back down her delicate arms as the tails of them wrapped around the hem of her dress. Her red hair trailed around her, wrapping itself around her body before returning to her back.           

“Yes?” She asked as the man kneeled before her, his bald head almost touching the floor. He wore a dark blue suit with light blue socks that reached up to his knees. The black, heeled shoes with their bright silver buckles were so well polished; she could see herself in them.  He rose slowly, showing his respect. “Would your majesty please come with me? There are matters at hand that must be swiftly dealt with.”                                                                                                       

 Dana frowned. She hated work. She hated having to deal with such affairs. It was a beautiful day and all she wanted was to stand on the balcony and stair out at the gardens below. Her flowers were rich, full and at the peak of their blooms.         

The colors were magnificent. Deep blues and hot pinks, oranges so stunning you could almost taste citrus and brilliant yellows spilled forth with such intensity that it took her breath away. The aroma wafted up through the air, bringing her so much pleasure that she felt light-headed. She didn’t want to leave; especially not to deal with matters at hand. 

 “Falfa,” She whined. “I am in no mood to deal with matters of the court, it is the peak of the season and I wish to be here.” “I am sorry your majesty, but these are things that cannot wait. The glass has grown cold and grey.” “Cold?” She gasped. “Cold and grey, anything but that.”  She gave him an imploring look, and sank to her knees.

“Your majesty,” he looked annoyed, “Your majesty, this is no time to mock. The glass is cold. It is grey, we cannot use it in such a manner.” She sighed.  “But it’s not like the end of the world is coming. I just want to be here. I want to bask in the serenity of the day, not wrap myself in politics and things so dreary and dark.” Falfa stared at her, scrunching up his weather-beaten face. He was a round, small and plump man. His head was bald and shiny. He wore the uniform of a high-ranking officer, noted especially by the white collar around his neck. He was advisor to the queen.  Her crest was embroidered on the front of his shirt in fine, silver thread, a horse standing tall in a field of flowers. He hated her crest. It was a child’s whimsy, not the crest of a feared and powerful ruler.      

He never took his job lightly, but sometimes it was hard to deal with a queen who cared more about flowers and pretty things than protecting her people from war or destruction. “No,” he thought to himself, “that was his job. She worried about making the flowers grow and he dealt with keeping them safe.”              

She was a child. Well, not a child, she was gorgeous actually, a tall, slender woman with delicate features and skin whiter than the purest snow drift. Her green eyes sparkled in the light and her red lips matched her red hair.                                      

  Red was the color of power. He had hoped her red hair meant she would use her talents wisely, that she would be a strong and fearsome leader. Well, she was a strong leader, when it came to making the flowers grow, but not when it came to anything unpleasant. That’s what she had him for.                                  

 He sighed one last time and took a deep breath. “Your majesty, these things are beyond my control. If you do not reset the glass, we will be blind to attack and the Queendom will fail.”                                     

  He paused for a moment to think about what he said. It was important and urgent; they had already seen armies lining up to the east and west. He looked to the flowerbeds lining the balcony walls. “If you do not reset the glass and put the protection into place that I have advised, not only will the Queendom fail, they will murder your flowers.          

 The look in her eyes told him he had struck the right nerve. “My flowers!” She gasped. “No! But they are innocent, things of beauty and serenity, love and life. They are the things of happiness, why would anyone want them killed?” 

 This was preposterous. Flowers were not living things. They were plants, they grew and reproduced, but they were not living, breathing, moving creatures. They did not feel pain. He mentally rolled his eyes and looked to her imploringly. 

 “There are some who do not wish the people happy. The flowers are things of beauty to bring joy and love. They are beacons of hope and there are some who wish the Queendom to themselves. They wish your flowers dead and you as well. They would rule the lands with an iron fist and kill those who got in their way. Armies have already begun to amass and with the glass out, we cannot see where they have gone. The ceremony will only take a couple of hours; you can be back before the sun begins to set.”  She looked at him, shocked. She felt sheer horror at the thought of someone taking away the beauty and happiness of herself and her people angered her.                                                                                                   

“No, I will relight the glass, but it will take me no more than five minutes. I shall return to my gardens within the half-hour and you will ask me for nothing else the rest of the day.” She lifted her head high as her hair dipped to the hem of her dress. She was a regal creature. She strolled out of the gardens and through the palace halls. Her face set in an annoyed, angry glare. Falfa trailed after her, making sure to keep a fair distance.                                                                                                                           

   The doors to the seer’s room slammed open. Dana strolled in, her face red in fury. Falfa walked around the table as the startled group of people quickly dropped to their knees. She did not beckon for them to rise.      

The room was small and round. There were maps and things strewn about. “War tools” she thought in disgust. She hated war. She hated dark, sad, dreary things like the rain. The rain was sad. It brought dark clouds and cast the world in shadows. She hated shadows. She hated being forced to stay inside where it was dark and smelled. The rain kept her from her flowers and sometimes even destroyed them. She wished she could control the rain. Then she could always be with her flowers and the rain could ruin someone else’s day. She missed her flowers, they were calling to her; she could feel it.                  

 “Let’s get this over with” she said to no one in particular. Her voice was cold and dangerous. Falfa knew she was mad. He’d angered her by telling her the flowers were in danger, but it was the only way. He sighed to himself. He had to save a Queendom by saving some useless flowers.      

The glass sat in the center of the large, wooden table. The table was shaped like an octagon, rough and ready to throw its splinters into anyone that might touch it. There were books on the table, papers and other odd trinkets. Dana hated the room. It was no room of magic. The seer’s room was just a name. It was a place of war, a place of hate. She hated hate.                     

  The glass was about a foot and a half tall, coming to a point at the top. It was triangular in shape, with a square in the middle. It was a good two feet wide and completely grey. Glass shouldn’t be grey, this wasn’t glass.                   

  Dana touched the table. The wood washed away as marble replaced the thick crevices. It became smooth and white, glistening in the sun. The things upon it slid off on their own accord. They came to a rest, lying in between or on some of the people. The room grew cold; everything and everyone froze but her.        

 A bird flying past the window seemed to stop in midair, its great wings spread out in mid stride. She studied it for a moment. It was rather large with brown and black feathers. Its wings were tipped in white. She liked birds; she envied their ability to fly. They were free to do as they wished when they wished without limit. What a life they lived. She hated being the Queen. Her job was so demanding. All she wanted was to be outside, with her flowers.  

The bird, like everything around her wasn’t frozen. It had slowed down. Time had slowed down. She returned her gaze back to the glass. Seer’s glass. That’s what it was. It was a mirror to allow her to see the world they lived in. it was how she ruled. Without it, she would be dead and the Queendom dominated by a male. A male she scoffed. They didn’t know anything about power. It would be her dying breath he would have to take if he wished to steal her Queendom. Even then it would never be his; so long as she had flowers in the garden, she would always be there. She loved her flowers. She poured her heart and soul into them. They were, as she saw it, the very essence of who she was. The flowers would be there even if she was not. As long as there were flowers, there was no need for war. Things of beauty could stop a war.        

She stroked the glass. It began to hum. She closed her eyes as her fingers caressed the soft, liquid feel of the seer’s glass. It was not glass. She began to chant quietly, so quietly that even she couldn’t hear what she said. The words came out like a river flowing into the sea. She was talking so fast. Her chest heaved up and down as the words left her mouth.              

The glass began to glow, the grey turned to orange. The hum became louder, the marble began to vibrate. The table turned orange with the glass. It began to rock back and forth as the glass hummed louder. The vibrations it caused ran through the room and up her legs. It tingled as it shot through her. She did not break her concentration. If she did, she would have to start over, and she couldn’t bear the thought of being away from her flowers a minute longer than necessary.         

As she chanted, the glass began to turn pink at the tip. It seeped down into the orange, enveloping it as it went. The table turned red, red with power. Her body began to move of its own accord around the table. She caressed it as the gold flecks in her dress suddenly exploded with the red ferocity. The pink of her sleeves fell back against the red flecks in stark contrast. Her pale snow white skin took on a red glow as the fingers with which she so gently touch the glass turned red at the tips, also glowing. She worked them up and down the soft surface of the glass. Weaving them, caressing them along its surface. She let them slide along the square. It turned red with her touch. The room was shaking.                   

Various items fell from the ceiling and the shelves above. They did not hit the floor. They stayed suspended in the air, falling slowly, moving with the rest of the world beyond. She ignored them as she started slowly circling the room, her glowing fingers still attached to the glass. 

Her chanting had grown louder; she was saying the words, almost screaming them. As the fury of the glass and the red grew, so did her voice. Then, suddenly, the glass became hot, so hot to touch that Dana could feel her flesh burning. She did not flinch. The Glass shattered and glowing red splinters exploded across the room. They moved with Dana, falling dangerously toward the people on the floor. As they struck, they dissipated. The glass on the table stood as if nothing had ever happened. It was tall and clear as sunlight reflected off of it; a prism.           

The white marble table began to shrivel as lines creased its surface. The brown of the wood came back as did the splinters. It was nothing more than an old, very used, wooden octagon once again. The things that began their slow fall down had moved only a couple of inches closer to the floor. Without warning, they fell down the rest of the way, shattering as they hit the ground. Every one gasped and covered their ears at the sudden assault of sound. They were un-touched by the shards of glass. There wasn’t a single hair out of place, not one scratch. 

 The bird outside the window was gone, climbing higher into the sky. Before anyone could even look up, Dana had also disappeared. She missed her flowers. That had taken longer than she wanted it too. Six minutes. She huffed as she walked quickly back to the gardens. She flung the doors wide open and knelt down to the first patch of flowers she came across. “My loves!” she cooed in delight, kissing their petals and caressing them as the burnt flesh on her fingers regenerated and re-grew.

 

 

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