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Jasmine Snippet #60

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The Story of Jasmine notes continue:

After their horses were satisfied and their water containers replenished, Rogan turned to Thorne. “Alright,” he said, “you got us away from the dwarf. What do you wish to discuss?”

“No, you misunderstand. I only wanted to water my horse.”

The Dockalfarian interceded, “And yet, here we all are.”

Thorne cocked her head and smiled, “So, you two want MY counsel? No, I think it is you who have something to say.”

Rogan, normally exercising such excellent control over himself, suddenly cracked. His eyes grew big, he put his hands on his head and cried, “Oh! It’s so hard to describe what I saw last night!…”

Thorne was alarmed at his sudden mood swing, but urged him to continue, “What did you see?”

“I saw those soldiers turn into stone! All of them…all at once! It all happened in a burst of light! It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever witnessed. The dwarf saw it too…”

“Calm yourself!” Thorne counseled in a firm voice.

After a short pause, Rogan continued, “While we fought the soldiers, a maiden appeared. She was dressed in white with flowing blonde hair. She stood above us all at the top of the ruins. She enchanted the soldiers with her strange voice. It was like she spoke with 100 voices. The effect she had on those men froze them in place. Somehow, I was still able to move, but those men couldn’t. They just stood there, giving me time to retreat to the woods.”

Rogan’s eyes seemed to be in a far-off place as he recalled, “then she began humming. It was a most incredible sound. And the humming only got louder and more intense. I could close my ears to it because I could move. But that humming was more than just sound. I could also feel a vibration coming up from the ground through my feet. The sound pulsed until it became a big explosion of light and blinded me!”

“What?”

“When the moon came out, I could finally focus. The White Maiden was gone from her place on the roof. What happened to her? I don’t know. Was she a flesh and blood woman or was she a phantom of this temple? Could she disappear into thin air?”

“The dwarf, what happened to him?”

Rogan answered, “For a long time, I did not see the dwarf. But I didn’t expect to. He turned up later. We did not get a chance to discuss what we saw before you wandered in. Everything is complicated. I think he has some type of prior relationship with the maiden.”

“How do you know this?” Ahearn interrupted.

“Because it was I who made him hurry here from the Inn in Oxted. I was having a good time drinking with him. We shared stories and I repeated the recent rumors I heard. When I happened to mention that soldiers were looking for a girl on the White Throne Mountain, he got up and made to leave. I thought this reaction was so curious. The fellow would have run here the entire way if I hadn’t offered him a lift on my horse. I just wanted to have a look.”

Ahearn interrupted, “Do you trust the dwarf?”

Looking askance at Ahearn, Thorne replied, “Who trusts anyone?” Ahearn had no time to respond when Thorne cries out, “Ha!” She reached into the flowing stream. “I have your answer! It was no phantom you saw – she’s flesh and blood alright. Look.” Thorne triumphantly pulled a ribbon from the stream and showed it to Rogan.

“That is all the more worrisome.” He replied solemnly.

“Why? A flesh and blood woman can easily be dealt with.” Thorne offered confidently.

Rogan shook his head, “You did not experience what I did. You have no idea of the immerse power I felt in my bones. It was truly something to behold. Mark my words, this power is to be befriended, not challenged.”

© 2018 DARLENE

 

Jasmine Snippet #59

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The Story of Jasmine notes continue:

Thorne was suspicious. Thorne was always suspicious. What concerned her this time was Rogan, the Nôr-man whom the Armildians had contracted to escort her to UR. When he arrived from Roth, he came at precisely the correct time to help the Armildians in their plight against Melantha’s evil expansion. During their discussions, Rogan pointed something out to the Armildian Council that they had never before considered: the importance of a man on a diplomatic mission.

Thorne saw him in diplomatic action. She witnessed how well Rogan could manipulate their own royal court. So she did not express any misgivings about his impressive ability to sway the Royal court of UR. With his silver tongue, Rogan acted the part of court dandy well. He was nothing but cordial and agreeable to her this whole trip. And helpful! That’s why she was wary. Nobody acts this nicely, for this long without something up their sleeve. Convinced there was more going on with him, Thorne seldom let her guard down.

In spite of her misgivings, Thorne had actually begun to enjoy Rogan’s company. Once the two of them learned that UR had fallen, did he think their mission was now ended? They had not yet had time to discuss their next move.

“Do I return to Armildia or shall I seek the help of another King?” Thorne asked herself. Was Rogan right not to rule out Bardulf, who recently conquered UR from the inside out? Magic had to be involved, as well as bribes and tactics of persuasion. She did not believe Bardulf could place his spies very effectively in Melantha’s domain of Medrylthorn. She was also unconvinced Bardulf was capable of keeping his word.

Her thoughts returned to Rogan. She wondered what was happening now with him. Ever since he encountered this cursed mountain, he acted strangely. Involuntarily, she turned her head to look at him again. Rogan stood nearby conversing with the other men, still.

The dwarf leaned against a broken column, honing his axe, listening. She liked him. He was honest and dangerous. The black mercenary had his back to her, but always with his hand lightly resting upon his sword handle. It was so easy not to trust him. For one thing, he was no mercenary. He was so stiff of manner, could it be he was also on a diplomatic mission to UR? Why else would a Dockalfarian venture this far south?

She saw Rogan from the side. He gestured wildly with this hands while he spoke. Hoping he did not catch her glancing at him, she turned away and headed towards her horse. But really, how important was he? Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

“Hey,” a voice called behind her, “where are you going?”

“Priorities,” she replied. “I need to water my horse.” Her words had an immediate effect. The two men ceased talking, turned, and made for their own horses.

Thorne chuckled as she lead her horse down the main path, aiming for the nearest place she smelled water. She followed a small track someone on foot had recently made and it led to a stream. Here, her horse slurped up its fill of water. She bent down and drank as well. The men followed behind her, creating their own wide tracks.

© 2018 DARLENE

Jasmine Snippet #57

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New note for “The Story of Jasmine”:

When Jasmine awoke, she was on the seat of a large throne in a circular room. She was confused. Did I dream I was outside, or was I actually outside?” In her mind, she retraced her steps.

Jasmine remembered exploring the temple, which seemed to be a well-ventilated underground structure. There were no ruins she could detect. She judged it to be long past evening when she entered this central hall. Now it felt like the night had long since settled in. She remembered her first sight of this throne elevated by about five steps. She had immediately made for the steps and was about to take a customary seat at the top when it occurred to her she wasn’t in UR anymore. But, with no other place to sit, she decided to risk it.

Once she took her seat on the throne, she lost all sense of time and reality. Her body became electrified as she received lots of memories/ knowledge/ information. It was all so real, yet her recollections were vague. But there was a particularly vivid one regarding the soldiers who were gathered outside. She dreamt she was a Protector of this Holy Temple and like her sisters, had a duty.

She remembered dreaming about being in an important council with her sisters. They discussed what to do with the violaters who had gathered outside. They talked about the men staying there a long time because they could never return to their Lord empty-handed. They would stay until they encountered some hap-hazard individual. Then she saw Glynn’s face. He was her new dwarf friend who she left behind at the Oxted Inn — the one who saved her from an attack. He would be walking into an ambush. She feared for him.

That’s the point she could not distinguish very well. It felt to her like the continuation of a dream, but it also felt like it could have happened. She and her entranced sisters marched outside and took up their collective positions until they were all gathered in a circle, even in places where there were no structures to hold them. The Order of the White Flower surrounded the men. One or two of them gave short speeches. But then everyone participated in confronting the soldiers to honorably give them a way to save themselves. They all spoke the same words in unison. After their collective challenge was answered, they hummed in unison. They directed the vibration they achieved downward towards the men. It did not take long before the resonance of their collective humming produced a blinding flash.

After feeling a sensation of falling, she thought she saw Glynn’s face. Then her sisters carried her back inside as her strange dream continued. As before, she was back on the throne. Her  sisters urged her to find a particular room and enter it. Fortunately, she would not have to search to find the room. Her Ermama made her memorize the layout of the temple by making it into a game. She knew the room belonged to the wizard Erlkyng. Come to think of it, the Guardians also suggested she seek Erlkyng’s room to see what she would find there.

Deciding the time was probably nigh, she got up and headed directly for Elkyng’s chamber.

© 2018 DARLENE

Jasmine Snippet #56

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New note from “The Story of Jasmine”:

Her old clothing was the last thing linking her to her prior existence as a princess. Besides being heavy, cold and wet against her skin, there were other reasons she was happy to strip off of the raiment of her past and be rid of them. The clothes no longer suited her, if they ever did.

Jasmine sighed, “All I have left are your stories, dear Ermama.” Adjusting the new gown to her body, she recognized, with delight, she was dressed the same as described for the Order of the White Flower. She laughed as she huddled around the lantern. There was another box waiting for her to open. Jasmine walked over to it and inspected the contents. It contained footwear.

It was not long before Jasmine was dressed, head to toe as one of the Order of the White Flower. She felt she want to be a part of this Order. She placed the rest of the clothes back within the innermost cedar box and closed each lid. If she wanted to be one of the Order, it would only be respectful to put things away properly. But what should she do with the clothing she left behind?

She wadded everything up into one ball and proceeded back to the pool room. She pushed the unwanted ball as far as she could down into the hole. When the vortex took hold she said, “Goodbye, Princess Flavia of UR.” 

With the symbols of her prior life sucked away, she was definitely ready to take conscious steps into the future. Her very next thought rewarded the first, “Wafers!” She knew where the rations were kept.

© 2018 DARLENE

 

Jasmine Snippet #55

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Notes from The Story of Jasmine continue:

Jasmine stopped shivering after her body dried. The fabric of the dress she had donned was sweet-smelling and made her smile. It was surprisingly comfortable. But anything would be comfortable compared to all those monstrosities she endured for the sake of looking good for her father at court. He paraded her out at every opportunity. Any opportunity. And all she had to do was to smile sweetly and say the right things. It was the main thing that was expected of her.

The way she saw it, she was dutiful. Court-life was boring. Ermangarde made it so. Anything Ermangarde was saying or doing, especially her stories, made the little princess want to remain a child forever. Ermangarde nurtured her rebellious nature, which always translated as being haughty.

She so wanted to scream to them, “But if you only heard her stories, you’d understand and totally agree!” Ermangarde always forbade her to do such a thing. She even made the princess promise never to repeat what she says to a living soul! The knowledge of her stories were meant only for her and her alone. It was to be their secret.

Jasmine laughed to recall how Ermengarde gave her great ideas to delay the moment of their parting. She did everything Ermengarde suggested. She mused to herself, “I  would never have thought I had a say when it came to suitors. That was genius. It gained us many more years than I would have thought possible.” But thinking back, sometimes the princess really liked some of her suitors, those who came to win her hand. She was excited to be seen by them. She liked hearing all the pretty things they had to say to her in front of everybody.

But Ermangarde always stood firm. And she always knew best. The princess took to heart Emangarde’s warnings against youthful entanglements and her rigid stance, that above all, she should never marry.

“Diminish contact,” was Ermangarde’s usual advice, “it will make things easier not to succumb to those courtship rituals.” As Ermangarde fed her compelling stories about The Order of the White Flower, the princess was urged to question everything about her life in court. It seemed like Ermangarde had made it much easier for her to sever ties.

Now, with Ermangarde gone, she had nothing to hang onto, except stories. First, there were the strange stones the Guardians told her on their ceaseless journey underground. The strange history Glynn Oakenshield told made her wonder all the more. But before all that, there were Ermangarde’s stories. Jasmine now needed to remember every secret tale her wise and loving companion told her.

© 2018 DARLENE

Jasmine Snippet #54

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Notes for The Story of Jasmine continue:

It was not difficult to see there were two ways leading out of the pool chamber. Shivering, Jasmine entered the left one. The passageway immediately brought her to a room that seemed to be drier. Before her, on a stone table, was a large stone box. Inside the stone box, was a cedar box. It was large enough to hold a lantern, oil, and a means to make fire. Without hesitation, she lit it and held it close to her as the flame grew steady.

She was still shivering when she recalled the contents of what was supposed to be in next room. Taking up the lantern, she found her way into the next chamber which, sure enough, had a change of clothes. The clothes were tucked away in an another set of boxes similar to the first. Although this box was larger, the lid sort of rolled in a weird way that made it easily accessible.

When she finally made her way to the contents, she discovered many different shapes, styles, and sizes of white garments, mostly robes and dresses. The only stitch of clothing that was not white was a blue cloak. She was eager to get out of her wet clothes and into something dry. Even so, she was as choosy now as when she was a princess.

© 2018 DARLENE

Jasmine Snippet #53

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New note for The Story of Jasmine:

Looking for the secret passage, Jasmine moved further up the stream, and headed for the waterfall. She stopped at the point the water had pooled. She knew the place the pool would be much deeper, where the water fell from above. She discarded her cloak on the bank and stepped into the pool. The chilly water immediately came up to her waist. She swam towards the falls. The only way to get to the secret passage was to locate it from below.

In Ermengarde’s stories, the passageway could not be accessed on land. She ducked under the surface of the cold water and, feeling her way with her hands, discovered an opening.

She did not have far to swim. The underwater passage contained a vortex and, once inside, it swallowed her. She made it there before she needed to replenish her breath. The end came out in a small, dully lit underground chamber. Her eyes became accustomed to the greenish caste.

According to Ermengarde, a special lichen with the ability to illuminate the walls and ceiling thrived there. Of course, she never really believed that part of the story, but it was true! Green Light without the sun did exist! This stuff was all over the walls and ceiling. She got herself out of the cold water. Her wet clothes dripped on the moss.

© 2018 DARLENE

Jasmine Snippet #50

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The notes for “The Story of Jasmine” continue:

“Heigh Ho! Friend or foe?” Ahearn looked in the direction of the call. His sword was still strapped to his horse and he would not be able to retrieve it in time.

He held up his weaponless hands and replied, “Friend!”

The moon had disappeared again. Ahearn heard some bustling within the chamber and then the slow advance of footsteps. “Nothing will happen to you if you are, indeed, a friend.” Ahearn noticed the stocky figure approaching him was a mature dwarf with a graying beard and piercingly clear eyes.

The dwarf had on his person several daggers and a great battle-axe hung at his side in the customary way mercenary dwarf warriors wore them. What’s more, still stained with fresh blood, this battle-axe had recently been used. Ahearn noted his proud bearing as he spoke. “Who are you and what is your business here?”

Noticing a second man off to his left, Ahearn answered, “I’m a mercenary soldier, much like yourself.” Ahearn immediately launched into the cover story he had prepared for himself earlier when he began his quest to find the lost princess.

When he had finished, the dwarf asked, “Who do you work for?”

“Unemployed at the moment. I am in service to none. I intend to inquire for some work, in Oxted but have not make it that far.”

“You say you are not coming from Oxted, but are traveling towards Oxed?”

“Yes, from the west,” Ahearn lied, “from the north-west, if you must know! Now may I ask what all his is about?” The dwarf had already backed down and signaled to the man who stood watching in the shadows.

With his hand on the hilt of his sword, the man approached them. As he got nearer, Ahearn saw he had fiery red hair and beard. There was no mistaking him. This was one of the Nôr-men of Roth. Ahearn was surprised to see him. The Nôr-men of Roth infrequently ventured beyond their own borders and, to his knowledge, never this far south.

The Velgrath Mountains stood between their two kingdoms in the north. Ahearn reasoned that if he could recognize one of the Nôr-men, he could just as easily be identified as a Dockalfarian.

© 2018 DARLENE

Jasmine Snippet #49

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On-going notes for “The Story of Jasmine”:

Ahearn judged it to be well after midnight by the time he reached his destination, the temple the Guardians had talked about. All during his ride, the moon shone brightly and illuminated the landscape for far distances. But after his arrival to the white mountain, the clouds became shrouded in a thick bank of clouds.

The moon was still hidden when he finally arrived in the area of the temple. He dismounted. With reins in hand, he slowly lead the rest of the way to the buildings in ruin. Among the ruins, he passed many stone statues. It seemed to him they resembled soldiers, but not ancient ones. These statues became more numerous when he entered the temple grounds.

The moon came out as Ahearn was examining one such face. The sudden illumination accentuated the look of astonishment frozen upon the stone faces. The startling effect unnerved him. This had been a recent occurance.

He knew this because he recognized one of the statues to have been a particularly gruesome foe. “One of Bardulf’s men, from the look of it.” He thought grimly. Once before, he had encountered something like this, and recently. A stone statue of a woman stood in front of the cave opening in the grotto. Surely, this could not be coincidence.

To make more sense of the scene, Ahearn left his horse to walk around each figure and examined the the foot tracks that once belonged to them. The surprised gaze of each statue was turned upward to a place near the top of the building. He was about to approach what looked like the main temple, when a voice halted him.

© 2018 DARLENE

Jasmine Snippet #48

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The on-going notes for the Story of Jasmine continue:

A pencil sketch of Jasmine created in 1980

Jasmine made a slow ascent to the ancient ruins of the temple on the mountain known as The Great White Throne. Although she was tired, with each step, she felt the weight of her past drop away. Mulling over all the confusing things the Guardians told her during their journey within the underground passage, she recognized one truth. She could never go back. She could not retrace her steps. There was no returning to life as a princess in her father’s castle.

There was no where to go but onward, into the unknown. The moment she realized this became the moment she took her life into her own hands. This is when the princess ceased to be a princess and became Jasmine. Even though her pampered life had never prepared her to make decisions for herself, she somehow felt wiser.

Her rumination was interrupted by something out of the ordinary Jasmine thought she heard. She stopped in her tracks and craned her ears. What in the wind was whispering a warning? She heard the gurgling of a small stream nearby and left the path to head for it. The Guardians told her water diminished the ring’s effect upon her. She dunked her hand in the stream’s cold water to dilute its potency. As the ring lost its gleam, Jasmine sensed danger.

For a long while, under cover, she stood perfectly still and quiet before the stream. As she waited, from between the trees, she studied the outlines of the walls that crowned the next rise not far from where she stood. As the last light of the setting sun receded into shadow, Jasmine watched the foliage sway in the gentle evening breeze. The rising moon illuminated the ruins of a once columned structure.

Though she had never been here before, everything seemed somehow familiar. Then it hit her. Could this be the place Ermengarde described in the stories she told? Ever since she was little, her foster guardian, Ermengarde, had captivated her with stories of the wondrous Order of the White Flower who lived in a White Temple on a White mountain. Her fantastic stories always had memorable descriptions, down to the smallest detail. If it truly was this place, then she knew everything there was to know about the Temple, even its secret passages. If real, those were happier days. Even though Ermengarde had always described it as a safe haven, what was left was in ruins.

And it wasn’t safe. There, in the cold light, she detected some movement and saw a figure of a man. But she was too far away to note any more detail. To move in for a closer look, she cautiously stepped in the shallow stream, which came up to her ankles and waded against the current. She knew the stream would led her somewhere above the temple. Taking this route did not pose a risk. Each step she took was sure-footed and confident, as if she had moved in procession in this very stream many, many times before, in unison with her beautiful story sisters under the light of the rising moon.

Eventually, her vantage point became such that she noted several men hiding among the broken pillars. Their complete attention was directed towards the pathway. She would never have seen them had she taken the trail. They appeared to be soldiers. At least they wore the clothing of Bardulf’s men. Had she arrived from the pathway, they definitely would have surprised her and taken her captive.

Truly amazed at how well Ermengarde prepared her for this moment, Jasmine mused to herself, “Well, Ermama, it must be time to find out if a usable secret passage actually does exist where you described it. And if it does, I will step into your tale.”

© 2018 DARLENE