Read Royal Outlaw: (Royal Outlaw, Book 1) Online
Authors: Kayla Hudson
Royal Outlaw: (Royal Outlaw, Book 1)
Royal Outlaw
Book 1
Kayla Hudson
In memory of my dad,
Scott Hudson
Who taught me to climb high when I was small, despite my childish fear of heights. From him I learned that despite the steep or challenging terrain, it is always worth it when I reach the top.
August 19, 1952 to January 2, 2011
Contents
Mariel de Sharec was born royal, but she never felt like a real princess. She was born an outcast and a disgrace to society to the king and queen of Natric’s only child, Princess Carolina, and Sergeant Darren Haroldsson of the Versati Corps. Her mother was sixteen, her father twenty. They were not in love, nor were they married. It was the biggest scandal to rock the powerful kingdom that anyone could remember and more than six years later it was not entirely forgotten.
Mariel had never been a real princess and she felt even less like one now as she leaned against the rock, her only protection from the terrible wind that screamed across the desolate landscape. Light faded rapidly as dusk settled upon the world. Mariel wished for night to never come. She hated the feeling of being plunged into utter darkness, the chill that crept into her bones, and the fear that kept her mind buzzing, refusing to let her tired mind and body sleep. The fear that
he
would get her.
There was no one here in this high desert to hear her screams as the Brown-Spider-Man found her. Nothing but the tumbleweeds to watch as he bit into her small body with his sharp teeth.
Mariel’s pulse quickened. The Brown-Spider-Man strode toward her this very instant, she was sure. Fear paralyzed her tiny body made even smaller by the last two weeks of fleeing, the many days without food. She shut her eyes, not wanting to see the grey and white zebra-like striped hand reach around the jagged rock and latch on to her throat. Mariel choked back a sob and the image of her papa flashed across the back of her eyelids:
His thick brown hair fell across his face as he shook a finger at her and said, “Master your fear, girl, before it masters you.” She stuck out her tongue and he erupted in laughter. “My little fairy, no one’ll master you!”
Was he looking for her now?
Yes,
Mariel was sure of that.
But he’s the only one.
With the reassuring thought of her papa, Mariel pushed back the sob and opened her eyes.
Master your fear.
Gathering all her courage and, with every part of her shaking, she slowly peered around her hiding place.
Wind blasted her, making her dark green eyes water, but the land before her was devoid of life, with only harsh brush and rocks and the occasional tumbleweed. No human-like shape walked toward her in the half light. No grey cloak opened in the wind to reveal the fearsome monster that hunted—for that was what he was: the hunter. And she was his prey.
The child ducked down behind the rock again, blocking out some of the wind. She pulled the thin blanket over the bits of cloth she wore. Although the cloth had once been an extravagant dress, looking at it now, no one would guess it had ever been anything more than a rag. Although the blanket did not offer much heat, it reminded her of people: living, breathing people whom she had not seen in three days, although it felt longer than that. That was also the last time she had eaten any sort of food. Stolen of course, just like the blanket.
In every town or village she passed through she begged for help: “I’m Princess Mariel de Sharec, granddaughter of King Vincent and Queen Meredith. Please help me. Mother is dead and a man-eating monster with striped skin is hunting me. Help!”
They had laughed. Every one.
There had been a Natrician soldier who had given her a glimmer of hope. “‘Princess’ ye say?” He had raised a heavy eyebrow at her rag-tag appearance. “Don’t look like no princess. ‘Cept yer eyes. Maybe you is.”
“I am. I am!” Mariel had cried, tears stinging the very eyes he spoke of with the hope that someone finally believed her, would help her.
“Best get ye on a unicorn and send ye on yer royal way, back ta yer grandmamma in the pretty palace.”
The child had collapsed to her knees, sobbing in relief, too young to hear the sarcasm in his voice.
He took her back to the barracks. “Found us a princess, mates.”
They bowed to her, laughing and smiling. She stood proud and relieved, not realizing she was the joke until they sat her at the table and set a bone before her when they promised her a meal. “Here ye go,
Princess
.” The laughter rang in her small ears, making fresh tears come.
One of the soldiers picked her up by her collar and tossed her into the garbage heap.
“Go play with the rats, dog! A princess!”
He had slammed the door and Mariel had curled into a ball, feeling more lost and alone than she had felt since fleeing the beautiful manor on a scared horse that had bucked her off a few days later.
“Run, Mariel! Run!” Those were her mother’s last words before her ear-piercing screams split the air. Mariel had looked back as the horse’s hooves pounded across the cobblestoned courtyard toward the gate. She should not have looked back.
“
No!
” Mariel cried, now huddled behind the rock in the high desert. “Don’t think about it, don’t remember! Forget! Forget!” She pounded her small fists against her bruised and cut head. “Forget!”
She needed to forget her mother’s dying screams, as she, Mariel, fled to safety, although she had yet to reach safety. She had to forget the soldier’s leering, laughing face as he tossed her out the door. She could not think about her papa who was probably desperately looking for her, tracking her, but she could not stop and wait because of the Brown-Spider-Man. Most of all she had to forget the monster that hunted her and the dark that was inevitably descending upon the land. Instead she focused on the pain in her right shoulder from the shallow stab wound.
The wound kept trying to heal, but all the traveling she did worsened it. She worried it might fester, but only because she had heard people use that word fearfully when talking about wounds and cuts. Every day she inspected her stab wound, hoping it had not festered, but she was not sure what to look for because she did not know exactly what the word meant. She touched her tender forehead, feeling the dried blood where the knife had struck, ripping out the front part of her curly brown hair. Once again memory took her back to that fateful day of her mother’s death.
“
No!
” the child cried and slammed her small fist against the rock causing daggers of pain to shoot up her arm, but she was used to pain now and she preferred that to the memories. “Please, Valmir,” she prayed to the god of strength and war, the patron god of Natric, “Help me! Please, Narel,” she whispered to the goddess of protection, patience, and healing who was the patron goddess of the kingdom. “Keep me safe. I’m scared, I don’t wanna die, please,” The girl pleaded with the gods, knowing that she had nothing to bargain with, only herself, and that was not much to the great beings who ruled the heavens. She continued to mutter pleading words to those of a higher order, but she was losing faith in them.
Another strong surge of wind blasted by the rock, but a small strand of air reached her nostrils. The child jerked. She barely dared to breathe or move as she watched a small brown spider crawl over the top of the rock as though the wind did not blow fiercely through the high desert. More than ten other spiders followed after it, their legs moving quickly toward her. She screamed and pushed away from the rock. The hem of grey robes entered her vision.
Slowly, she turned her head up. The child’s eyes opened in alarm, she wanted to scream, but was too scared as she looked up toward the darkening sky which was blocked by the man standing over her. But this was no man. It was a creature that looked like a man with chalky skin alternated with stripes of white and light grey skin pigment. He wore a robe of grey with more brown spiders crawling over it. His pale, striped hand hung out of the wide sleeves of his grey robe, revealing fingernails filed to a point. He reeked of rotten corpses and carrion.
This creature had pursued her, appearing periodically. He never seemed angry when she escaped and she wondered if he thought this was a game. The grey robed creature smiled at her with unnaturally sharp teeth. The girl realized the monster was not going to let her escape this time.
In fear, she gripped the thin blanket closer to her. A wild impulse struck her. Mariel kicked out, slamming her feet into the creature’s shins and threw the blanket into his face as he fell. The creature cursed in a foreign language as he leapt cat-like to his feet again.
Mariel was already away and running. She tore through the bushes, leaping over some and not caring what others grabbed and tried to hold her. She was stronger than the vegetation and could break away, but she knew she could not break away from the Brown-Spider-Man. This creature had magic, and he wanted her.
The child barely noticed when she entered into rough, sturdy little trees or when the ground became softer and the brush denser. She only subconsciously noticed when the ground began to slant upward. The Brown-Spider-Man was closing the space between them. He was much bigger than the child, but still she ran. Her muscles cried out for her to stop and her breathing tightened, but desperation drove her on. She had not eaten in days and her wounds and constant journeying tugged on the little strength she had.
Mariel pulled back suddenly, making her body stop just before she ran over the edge of a very steep bank and tumbled into the fast flowing river below. She spun as the Brown-Spider-Man reached out to grab her. Fear froze the child’s brain and her automatic response was to move away from the threat. She stepped back, but there was no ground to hold her. Down she went, her whole body tumbling over the edge. The girl’s body bounced and rolled down the steep embankment before slamming into the water. The current caught her and kept her under. Blackness captured her as the river swept her away.