The Princess and the Oracle

By W Young

While leading a hazardous expedition to the fractious Northlands to gather information on the identity of mysterious figure uniting the unruly barbarian warlords, the Guardian - a warrior imbued with enhanced strength, agility, and stamina by the Oracle of Malwas Castle is slain in an ambush. Barely surviving the mission and nursing his own doubts, newly promoted Commander Will Anders is ordered by the Guardian Council to take a group of hand picked warriors to train the new Guardian, Princess Ashley of Lancland. Thrust into a situation beyond her control, will Ashley survive long enough to carry out a plan to end the invasion before it can begin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: W Young
• Release date: Oct 8, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005141615

W Young

W Young was born in Auckland, New Zealand and currently resides there with their family.

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The Princess and the Oracle

By W Young

Copyright 2021 W Young

Smashwords Edition

Discover other titles by W Young:

Monsters

The Human War

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chapter 1

Anders looked down at the campsite and wondered if today his luck ran out. As if reading his melancholy mood, a heavy mist descended - muffling the grunts of the troops below. With the mist threatening to obscure their view of the campsite, Anders glanced to his right. Now what?

Even in the midst of imminent combat, a smile came easily to Guron’s face. They’ve stopped moving. So it’s time for us to start.

Guron gestured for the men crouched around him to move in closer. They had been shadowing the march for several days. Ever since Guron had heard the rumour someone was stirring things in the north.

Listen up, lads, Guron ordered. We need to find out what they’re up to before they reach the next fort. I intend to infiltrate their camp, grab whatever intelligence we can and snag their commander. Falric, you’re to lead the diversionary attack during our escape, but wait for our signal. Anders, your groups with me. Guron gave one final nod. Let’s move.

They crept out of the undergrowth toward the enemy camp. Its occupants owed their allegiance to Lord Drasc, one of the many Warlords fighting for supremacy in the north.

The Southlands below the Aklyde Mountains, while subject to raiding and skirmishes, were spared large-scale attacks, but recently raiding had dropped dramatically and now reports indicated fighting between the Warlords had practically ceased. The Council had despatched them north to find out why.

They paused by a cluster of bushes. Only a few men wandered the perimeter, worrying Anders. Guron, are you sure it’s safe?

Don’t worry, replied Guron. This far north in their own territory, they probably figure they’re safe.

Anders nodded, not entirely convinced. He’d visited the Northlands enough times to know how dangerous it could be. Just getting past the various wild beasts inhabiting it should be reason enough to keep a few more guards out.

The sound of men talking around the big central fire became louder. Guron gestured to Anders. See that large purple tent? That’s Drasc’s tent. He’ll be having his evening meal, so it’ll be empty. If we’re lucky we just might be able to get away without Falric’s help.

With his enhanced senses, Guron led the way - timing their run to avoid the attention of the guards. The men slinked forward, keeping to the shadows, their swords ready for danger as they sneaked between the tents. They were a mixture of adventurers, soldiers, explorers, even monks, all had different motivations, but all united in their efforts to fight evil.

Sweat running down his face, Anders relaxed slightly when he realised they were finally within reach of Drasc’s tent.

A stony-faced warrior stood guard outside. Like many Northern men, the guard was heavily built, his clothes a mixture of wild animal skins and armour - giving him a fearsome appearance. He was armed with a medium sized battle-axe, popular among the many warrior clans and he wore a metallic helmet shaped to resemble a human skull. He peered at them, but fortunately the darkness and mist obscured their slightly different armour and he paid them little heed.

Guron walked up confidently to him and grabbed him by the tunic. He placed a hand over his mouth and snapped his neck. He handed the body to Anders, then poked his head inside the tent. He motioned the others to join him. Anders dragged the body inside and dumped it inside the entrance out of sight.

Guron tossed the skull helmet to his sergeant, Blarn. Put on his clothes, warn us if anyone comes.

Blarn grabbed the helmet and went outside. The others spread out to search the tent for information. Anders paused to get a good look at its layout. It was large and designed to be both a meeting and living space.

A big table emblazoned with skull and demon carvings dominated the space. There were a few similarly decorated chairs scattered about, but Anders’ eye was drawn to several wooden trunks.

A quick examination revealed they were all locked. He drew out a small, but sturdy blade and jammed it into the slight gap between the lid and box. He wrenched it open and was surprised to discover it contained human teeth. Crazy northerner, he muttered going onto the next box.

The next four boxes contained dried Human ears, horse hooves and some rather lurid scrolls that left him blushing. Only one box remained and Anders shuddered to think what might be inside - baby skulls the way things were going.

The final box was the most ornate of the set, it looked it had been grown rather then carved out of wood. It also proved to be the most difficult to open. After two failed attempts, Anders conceded defeat. Guron, I could use a hand.

With barely a hint of effort, Guron ripped off the lid. Inside were several scrolls. Guron tossed a few to Anders and together they went through them.

Anders shook his head. This is bad.

Guron nodded. We have to warn the Council. Let’s go lads.

They shoved the remaining scrolls into their tunics and made their way to the exit, but they didn’t get far. Blarn lay in the dirt - several of arrows jutting from his chest.

A hawk faced man with a long black beard stepped forward cradling a massive battle-axe in his arms. What do we have here? He turned to his men. Looks like we had dinner too early.

Laughter echoed from their ranks.

Guron growled, Drasc, it’s been a while.

We’ve been expecting you, Drasc replied. I wanted you to get a good look at the scrolls, so you can appreciate the magnitude of your failure. A new order’s coming Guron and you’re not a part of it.

Guron raised his horn, signalling Falric. The Northerners spun around in confusion as Falric’s men attacked from the forest - causing instant confusion in their ranks.

Drawing his blade, Guron charged Drasc who swung his axe. Like the veteran warrior he was, Guron dodged the blow and responded with a move of his own, decapitating Drasc with one slash of his blade. The force of his blow sending Drasc’s head high into the air.

Guron then proceeded to deal with the other warriors around him. Watching out of the corner of his eye, Anders never ceased to be amazed by Guron’s skill. Even without his Guardian powers he could have taken out most of these men.

The Northerners launched wave after wave of assaults on them and Guron responded like a man possessed. Kicking, punching, fending off one attack while dealing with another.

Anders charged the nearest warrior, a massive, tattooed man. Raising his blade, Anders succeeded in putting the warrior on the back foot. Redoubling his efforts, he engaged in a series of frantic strokes, which the warrior struggled to block. Anders finally breached his defences, carving a straight line across the man’s chest.

Taking a deep breath, Anders was alarmed to see only he, Guron, and another young warrior were still standing. Guron, Clar! Time to go!

Guron picked up a warrior and tossed him at some incoming troops. I’m right behind you. Go!

They hadn’t gone more then a few yards when Clar went down - a spear jutting from his back. All Anders could do was grimace.

Finally! Falric yelled. He gestured to the pair of horses beside him. Let’s get the hell out of here.

They jumped on and Falric blew his horn, signalling the withdrawal.

Looking over at Guron, Anders grinned. Another successful mission!

Just watch where you’re going, replied Guron. I don’t want to have to come back for you.

They charged through the remaining Northerners - arrows whipping past as they galloped away. Anders winced as one whipped past his head, but they were soon ensconced in the relative safety of the forest.

The Guardian force kept up a cracking pace for nearly half an hour eager to put plenty of distance between them and Drasc’s remaining men. As they pulled their horses to a much-needed halt, Anders turned to Guron. We made it yet again.

Guron just looked at him, smiled, then tumbled off his horse.

Anders leapt down and was shocked to see two arrows sticking out from Guron’s back. We need help here!

He looked down at Guron who had an expression of pained resignation on his face. Why didn’t you say something?

Guron replied weakly, Had to make sure we got away. Give the Guardian Council the information, they’ll know what…

He started coughing up blood. Help out the new Guardian, he’s going to need your support.

Anders shook his head. Nonsense, Taga will get you patched up and you’ll be on your feet in no time.

With a great deal of effort, Guron placed his hand on Anders arm. Not this time…

Guron slumped down. A gloomy silence descended over the whole war party.

Bugger, muttered Halgar.

Falric knelt beside him. What now?

Anders rose from his knees. It hit him everyone was looking to him for leadership. He took a deep breath then said, We give Guron a decent burial. Then we head south. We have much to do and little time.

Chapter 2

It took five days of hard riding before the weary and downhearted group made it back to the Temple of the Guardians, otherwise known as Malwas castle. It had been the most trying journey since Anders had joined the Guardian Force, but as he saw Malwas set against the peaks of the Southern Alps, he contented himself that they could rest for a little while at least.

There was only one way into the valley, and it was well guarded by a stodgy old master sergeant from outposts high in the cliffs who demanded the best from his men.

The fertile valley provided all the food the garrison needed, so it wasn’t dependent on anyone.

Constructed over one thousand years before, the massive structure was carved out of the mountainside. According to legend, it had been breached only once in its long history. Its high wall and seemingly impenetrable battlements seeing off nearly all other assaults. Here the Guardian Order - a band of men and women who devoted their lives to ensuring that good triumphed over evil called home.

However, it was a war that never ended and their most powerful weapon in this war was the Guardian, a warrior chosen by the Oracle to lead the fight. Guron had been Guardian for over ten years. With his death a new champion had to be chosen.

As he watched the gate guards slowly open Malwas’s huge wooden doors, Anders wondered with trepidation who would be selected. He nodded to the Guards as he passed through. As part of his service in the Order, he’d served several months in the castle’s garrison, as had many of his men.

Most men joined along the way - eager for adventure. Many were ex-soldiers looking for something worthwhile to fight and die for. There was no real rivalry between the groups. They had fought and died in too many battles to argue over who was better.

As they pulled to a halt in Malwas’s vast stone courtyard, Anders said, Falric take the horses to the main stables and see to the men’s lodgings. I must see Governor Brak.

Falric nodded, "You got it, Boss."

Anders flinched inwardly. That was how everyone used to address Guron and it didn’t feel right hearing someone say it to him. Hopefully that would end when the new Guardian arrived. He headed straight for Brak’s office. One of Brak’s black robed assistants waved him in. He’s waiting for you.

Brak’s office was a sea of paper, scrolls and books on every subject as well as the seemingly endless stream of paperwork that involved running the Guardian Council. Once a soldier, Brak now waged a never-ending war on bureaucracy. Ander’s didn’t envy him.

From behind his desk, Brak stood up and straightened his purple robe. He greeted him with a warm handshake. Anders, good to see you. When the Oracle indicted Guron had passed over, we feared the worst.

We lost many good men, and I fear it’s going to get a lot worse.

So, what did you learn?

Anders reached into his bag and pulled out a scroll, handing it to the Governor. Read for yourself.

Brak looked at the scroll, a puzzled expression on his face and showed it to Anders. I don’t understand.

Anders blushed, recognising it as one of Drasc’s more picturesque scrolls.

Apologies, wrong scroll. He hastily handed over the correct one.

Brak read it slowly - a dark expression clouding his face. He ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. "This is very serious. This new leader has achieved the impossible, breaking the power of the warlords and uniting nearly all the northern clans behind him. They’re calling themselves the Murac. The united. An invasion force is gathering."

Brak shook his head. How could we miss something so big? I didn’t think anything could unite them.

Someone has, Anders replied.

Brak sighed, Guardian’s law, if something appears too good, then it probably is. If the Clans invade, it will plunge the land into years of conflict and even if we win much of the world - both north and south, will be devastated for years to come. He narrowed his eyes. We have to buy the southern nations time to gather their armies.

To do that we need a new Guardian.

A tiny smile came over Brak’s face. We expect a response from the Oracle very soon. As soon as we learn his identity we’ll despatch your team to collect him. Maybe we’ll get lucky and it will be someone here.

We never get that lucky, Anders replied.

Brak smiled thinly. You’re cynical for one so young.

I prefer realistic.

Brak laughed. You have settled into leadership very easily. Are you interested in staying in command?

Anders took a deep breath. Surely there’s someone more senior?

You have the confidence of the men, that’s no small thing. I’m willing to confirm your leadership if you want it.

Like he had a choice. I want it.

#

Departing Brak’s office, Anders made his way to the mess hall to catch up with the others. He paused to look at the battlements - waving a greeting to the men stationed there. Over the past five years this place had become a second home. Not that he had a first anymore.

The mess hall, a large building situated near the rear of the castle could hold over five hundred people, but now there were only several dozen.

Scenes from famous battles decorated the walls. Anders looked pointedly at one picture commemorating Guron’s victory at Falhoff, almost ten years earlier when he had become Guardian. Would the new one even come close?

Falric waved him over to his table before biting into a chicken leg. What did Brak have to say?

Anders helped himself to some food before replying, He’s concerned as he should be, but we can’t make a move until a new Guardian is chosen.

Falric took a swig from his mug then set it down. There are enough scouts in the mountains they’ll let us know if the invasion starts early. Relax.

Anders stared wistfully into his mug. Then it’ll be too late.

Silence descended over the table, before Halgar, a barbarian tribesman from the Mountains of Morge, laughed, Really inspiring. Remind me not to invite you to my next birthday celebration, a funeral might break out.

This brought a moment of much needed levity and Anders allowed himself a smile. Sorry, lads, I guess I’m letting things get to me.

He stood up on his chair and yelled, Next rounds on me!

A loud cheer echoed around the hall. Anders had barely sat down when a messenger arrived for him. He put down his mug. What is it, soldier?

The Governor requests your presence in the main chamber, the Oracle is about to speak.

Excitement building inside him, Anders turned to Falric. Make sure they don’t go overboard. We may need to move soon.

Falric smiled. Yeah, but who’s going to stop me?

It was unseemly to run but he walked as quickly as he could from the mess hall to the Oracle Chamber. The chamber was the central part of Malwas castle, the very reason for Malwas’s creation all those years ago.

The Oracle was enclosed by a massive stone keep - a fortress inside a fortress, designed to hold out, even if the main castle was breached. Black armoured Guardian sentinels watched everyone with a suspicious eye from their stone battlements. They were an elite, devoted to guarding the Oracle with their lives. Anders gave his name at the outer entrance. The door guards begrudgingly let him through to the courtyard beyond.

Every visitor through the outer door had to walk through an open courtyard, or as it was known to sentinels - the kill zone.

Anders tried to look calm. The crossbow armed sentinels tracked his passage towards the next door. He was expected, and the two massive ancient metal doors guarding the inner chamber were slowly opened. Legend had it the doors had been magically crafted after the great siege to make them extra strong against assault.

Anders hoped they never had to put that legend to the test. The only time an attacker had breached this far was over one thousand years ago when the infamous warlord Draco, fresh from conquering much of the known world, had decided he wanted the secrets of the Oracle. He had brought a vast army with him and laid siege to the castle for months before breaching the walls.

A small band of Temple warriors had retreated to the Oracle’s Keep and held out for nearly a month before Draco broke through the last line of defence.

The Temple warriors were finally pushed back to the Oracle chamber. The final few survivors prepared themselves to face Draco and his minions. It was then everything changed. One of the Temple warriors, a man named Jax, was enveloped in a beam of light coming from the Oracle.

Everyone stood there momentarily stunned, except for Jax. He challenged Draco to single combat for the possession of the Oracle. Draco, eager to impress his men, agreed. The fight was furious, and later legends speculated Draco had demon blood in him.

Believing Jax all but defeated, Draco taunted him about his failure. This momentary lapse gave Jax a chance to recover. He breached Draco’s defences and plunged his sword into the warlord’s chest. Draco was reputed to have stumbled forward in one last effort to take out Jax, until finally he collapsed to the ground dead. Demoralised by the death of their charismatic leader after the long and bloody siege, Draco’s warriors left as per the agreement and without him his empire collapsed, like so many others.

That day the first Guardian was born. Jax enjoyed a ten-year career before disappearing from the records. Anders always thought it unusual the first Guardian could just vanish. Whether he died or the guardianship was simply passed to another, there was no way to know, but he was the first of a long line.

Anders stepped through the metal door into another corridor, yet more guards hidden behind stone-carved barricades watched his movements. Behind them were more metal doors leading to their quarters.

There were many tunnels carved into the mountain, so that in the event of another siege, much of the castle could hide underground while using the Keep as their base, but only one entrance led to the Oracle itself and it was the most impressive of all. A massive metal door, built in the aftermath of the great siege. A mere handful of men could hold off an army for months. It was regularly restocked with supplies while a natural spring provided all the water it would need. It was opened and after a brief walk through the antechamber, he finally arrived at the stairs that led down to the Oracle itself. The door was already open and they waved him inside.

The stairs had been chiselled out of the rock. The walls were covered in intricate carvings showing great victories from the past, including the most famous one of all.

Upon reaching the bottom chamber, the two soldiers on duty waved him through. He stepped forward and took a moment to take it all in. The Oracle chamber was sixty feet tall and at least two hundred wide. In comparison to the carved stairway, it was quite basic, but it needed no finery.

The Oracle, a shimmering circle of silver blue light about ten feet in diameter, was located in the centre of back wall directly opposite the entrance. A chill ran through him. The Oracle had been studied for centuries, but no one was sure about the mystical forces that guided it and its premonitions.

Anders walked over to one of the monks and whispered, Do we know?

The monk shook his head. Not yet, but it’s close.

He pointed to Governor Brak who knelt before the Oracle in prayer. The pair watched as the Oracle changed colours, dozens of different patterns swirling around. Anders could make out places and people, but it all went by too fast. Brak stood then slowly leaned forward and carefully placed his hands inside the Oracle.

A beam of light filled the chamber. It took several seconds for his eyesight to return. He saw everyone else was just as dazed. Brak was on his knees. A couple of monks rushed to his side and helped him up.

The surface of the Oracle cleared to reveal, young woman with brown hair cascading down her back, clothed in a long blue dress casually walking along a Palace corridor, chatting to someone out of sight.

Anders was unsure what exactly he was looking at, having never seen a Guardian chosen before. I don’t understand.

Brak wearily got to his feet. That my boy is the new Guardian, Princess Ashley of Lancland. One of the older Kingdoms in Eastern Hamil.

Anders shook his head in disbelief. "You’re telling me that the warrior to protect us against the darkness, the mightiest warrior of our generation, is