Side Seventy-Six – Princess Eleanor Elizabeth Diana Windsor

Side Seventy-Six – Princess Eleanor Elizabeth Diana Windsor

“They are coming out the damn water!” David said, wielding the heavy spiked mace he had received as a reward from the treasury under the Tower of London. At the time he had complained that such an old, ugly mace was “ill-befitting of a war god such as him” but once they were in the mirrored version of London, the crude-looking mace had become a shining silver ball of death, and he wielded it to shatter the flesh and bones of the hideous creatures that were crawling out of the Thames and onto the shore. Overhead loomed numerous skyscrapers, many of them even larger than they were in the real world, the Shard being particularly distorted, now a polished sword of obsidian and diamond jutting far into the skies.

“Just fucking die, fishy shitheads!” David slammed the mace down on the head of another of the aquatic beasts, before spinning gracefully and smashing the ribs of another. Bolts of water came flying out of the water at them, but Aditi returned fire, her bow sending arrows of brilliant light piercing through their bodies, spilling stinking blue and green blood into the polluted river.

“A big one is coming.” Sir Arthur declared, watching the battle from beside her, using his age and experience to keep everyone calm and the formation effective. “The water is bulging up.” Orange energies were radiating everywhere, and a long, serpentine neck broke free of the mirror Thames, the head very similar to that of a dinosaur, yellow eyes glaring at them balefully.

“They’ve brought a damn Nessie down tae here, I’ll be bloody damned!” Sarah declared with her thick Scottish brogue, eyes going wide in surprise.

“Shield up, idiot, I don’t like the looks of this. I can’t take them all by myself!” David roared, continuing to wade into the seemingly endless tide of creatures that were boiling out of the Thames, squirming onto the banks with their foul webbed feet, clutching spears, tridents and nets, their beady, dark eyes glittering with anticipation as they waited for their foes to tire. “And get off your arse, Donovan, Princess, old man. I may be a God of War, King of the Octagon, but there’s only fucking one of me! And Mary-Jane, are you done yet? I’m getting pushed back!”

”Sorry Mr Reckless, everyone.” She apologised, the middle-aged woman wiping sweat from her brows as she held up her long wooden staff, energies gathering around her as a slender column of white marble was rising, the dark skies streaked with auroras above sending down shimmering prismatic motes of silvery light, which were being sucked in. “It will not be long, I hope. Until then, I ask you all to do your best!”

Yes, she does sound like a schoolteacher. Eleanor thought idly. “I guess it’s time. Come on Donovan, no need to worry. We have done this before, right?” Yes, if we hadn’t seen the establishment of multiple domains scattered around Central London already, the sight would be quite breath-taking and magical. Her hands tightened on the hilt of her sword as she raced to aid David Reckless, her blade cleaving. Each time she cut flesh, she felt sick, bile rising, but she forced it down, just as she ignored the blue-green blood splattering her green armour. A spear pierced her wrist, a lucky blow stabbing through the joints. Pain flared, but she slashed out and the creature fell back, dying, face cut to the bone, skull cracked. The spear tore free, and Eleanor shook her wrist, pain diminishing as the wound closed, her gift from the Green Man giving her ferociously quick regeneration. I still can’t get used to the pain though. Every time it hurts, and it never gets any better...

“Well, these old bones are getting quite the workout.” Sir Arthur was beside her, sword slicing in a figure of eight pattern, fishmen dying around them. Donovan was there too, his long spear giving him significant reach, as he thrust and stabbed at the seemingly endless horde.

“Incoming, you dumb fuckers!” David roared as the ‘Nessie’ belched out a stream of concentrated water, shining a brilliant orange, heedless of the fishmen in its path, which exploded into clouds of the shining silver energy that they needed to collect as they died to the friendly fire. David leapt backwards, but it looked like he would be caught in the blast, until Sarah stepped in, a massive bronze shield held in front of her, a tower shield in the old Roman fashion, the face polished to a mirror sheen. The compact jet of water struck, and the cascade scattered backwards, droplets of water slicing through the packed mob of enemies. David was hit by several, one slicing his forehead, and silvery-red blood started running down his face.

“Shit, I be getting pushed back here! There’ll be trouble if I cannae hold the line!” Sarah cried out, her feet sliding backwards as the endless wave of water continued unabated. It was then the beam shot upwards, the beast rearing back, one eye exploding as a bolt of light from Aditi took it in the head. The beast roared, the fishmen too, and then the reptilian monstrosity dropped into the water, disappearing from view.

Panicking, the fishmen started to break, their forces fleeing back to the sanctuary of the Thames, and David grinned, slaughtering as many of the retreating foes as he could. Eleanor joined him, Sir Arthur and Donovan at her side, and they hacked, slashed and stabbed until their muscles ached, breath came fast and hard, and the shore was empty, the remaining fishmen trying to escape the arrows Aditi was unleashing.

“Yeah, that’s right. Fucking run, fishheads!” David waved his mace at the fleeing enemies, before he wiped the blood from his face, frowning. He glared at the exhausted Sarah, expression unpleasant. “What the fuck was that? Knock it away from me next time, if I get scarred, it’ll be a national day of mourning!”

“If ye say so. I cannae see it myself.” Sarah scoffed, lowering her heavy shield to the ground with an audible thud. “It be Donovan who is popular with t’ladies now, ain’t he?” she chuckled, causing the shy young man to flush.

“Well, it’s certainly true.” Sir Arthur agreed, joining in the teasing, and Eleanor held in a smile herself. Trust sir Arthur to lighten the mood. I feel much happier with him at my side. With all of them, really. Grandmother was right. Not being alone is wonderful.

“Donovan does attract a lot of attention during the parties at the palace. So, which will you be dating? That heiress from the Marches, or the daughter of that Tech Company? Or both?” Sir Arthur grinned at his obvious embarrassment.

“Well, er...” Donovan stuttered, turning bright red. “I do think Nicola is very pretty, but Marie is fun to talk to... but then, Suzanne is also very...”

“A third, huh? Damn, he’s making us look bad, David.” Sir Arthur clapped Donovan on the back, nearly knocking him from his feet.

“Oh shut the hell up.” David was resting on the polished wooden shaft of his mace, eyeing Mary-Jane and her shining pillar. “I can get any woman I want, but I have high standards.” His gaze flickered over to Eleanor for a moment, and she nearly missed it. Really? Me? No, I don’t think so... he’s a bit too angry for my taste, even if I do like the pretty-boy look coupled with muscles. Ugh... why am I wasting my time with this? Aditi was chuckling gently as her last few arrows pierced the water, dropping a few fleeing fishmen, and Sir Arthur was chortling hugely. I hope I’m not blushing...

It did amuse her to see David was looking a little embarrassed too, as if he had been caught out doing something he shouldn’t. Still, there is no point making an issue of it. At least the tension has decreased.

Her lips quirked into a smile. “Mary-Jane, are you done?”

As David and Sarah continued to bicker belligerently, Eleanor shook her head, walking away. If I was more crude, perhaps I’d tell them to get a room. Placing her now-empty glass on the tray of a passing server, she surveyed the guests at the party. She recognised a number of them, other nobility, her extended family, as well as leaders of politics and business. Sadly I have to put myself out there. Grandmother is relying on me to be the foundation of this venture, and we’ll need the support of politicians of both parties. Though getting Labour and the Conservatives to agree on anything was impossible. If one said the sky was blue, the other would declare it was surely red. We’ll need money too, and technology. I’m not cut out for this... but it is easier than battle.

Eleanor greeted the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and after that she was introduced to several important figures in business. One of them was a tall, well-built man, with close-cropped brown hair and a suit that was clearly from the top end of Saville Row, the buttons seemingly made from antique ivory, which might just have been barely legal, if tasteless. He was accompanied by a woman, perhaps her age or maybe a touch younger, who had simply stunning blonde hair, which reached her knees, the longest hair Eleanor had ever seen. That must really take some drying after a shower...

She also had the most intense deep-green eyes, as well as extremely attractive features. But what was stranger was she was wearing some sort of religious vestment, similar to priestly cassocks, but with a more gown-like skirt flowing down to match her hair. On seeing her gaze, the woman merely smiled at her charmingly, while the man spoke, holding out a hand. I don’t recognise her, but she must be Church of England, right? Perhaps a bishop, though I haven’t heard of any new female appointments recently...

Eleanor took it, giving it a gentle shake, before offering the same to the woman, whose grip was surprisingly firm.

“I am Maxwell Power, it’s an honour to be here tonight, princess.” The man said, and Eleanor stifled a giggle.

“Max Power? Seriously?”

“I get that a lot.” He grinned, not offended. “But it truly is my name. Perhaps my parents had a sense of humour. Anyway, I am here with this beautiful lady here, who...”

“I can introduce myself, Max, you flatterer.” The lady gave a gorgeous smile. “I can speak for myself too, and let me say, alas I am pledged to God, not man, so I’m afraid no matter how shamelessly you flatter me, I’ll never spread my legs for you.”

Eleanor choked at that frank comment, but Max Power seemed not to care, merely smiling silently under her chiding. “Anyway, it is a pleasure to meet you, princess. I have heard much about you up until now. Isn’t the world a strange place? Anyway, I am Mary Stuart. A pleasure, this was surely ordained by God, this meeting. Are you a woman of faith, princess?”

Faith? Well, it’s hard not to have faith considering what I’ve experienced, but I doubt that is what she means. “Well, like most of my family, I’m Church of England. I must admit to not attending Mass as much as I probably should, but... well, God is forgiving, no?”

“Church of England? A shame.” Mary shook her head, beautiful golden-blonde hair swaying around her like a long cloak. “Still, God is indeed forgiving, of everything but worshipping false idols. At least Protestantism has its heart in the right place, even if it has a filthy, heretic mind.” She was idly playing with a unique-looking golden ring on her finger, which looked very unlike something a woman of the cloth would wear.

“Come now, my pretty.” Max Power interceded, seeing the strained look on her face. “Don’t berate the princess so. You know the Royal Family has to be C of E, it’s pretty much an unwritten rule, no?” As Mary gave a snort at odds with her appearance, Max continued. “Well, princess. I did want to spend more time talking to you, but alas, I need to discuss business with some other boring old men, but you can count on the support of my charitable foundation.” He handed her a business card, which she glanced at. It was black, with silver lettering, saying “Silver Hands Foundation” with various contact details. “If you need personnel, land, money... well, just give me a call. The Queen herself is gearing up for a massive project, it seems, and you are to be at the heart of it. Interesting times indeed, are they not? I wonder what is going on?” he smiled conspiratorially. “Care to give me a hint?”

“I am afraid not. Grandmother will announce the details in due time.” Eleanor demurred. So far she’s merely laying the groundwork, keeping secrecy to prevent panic. Slowly more and more influential people are finding out about the legacy of the Royal Family and our hidden duty, but if the populace knew of the chaos lurking through the mirror, separated from us by nothing more than a dream... there would be chaos.

“Do be a good boy and get lost.” Mary waved her hand at him, and with a last chuckle, Max Power left. Mary watched him go. “Well, he’s not entirely a sinner, though the blasphemous name of his organisation will see him suffer on Judgment Day. God does not have a fine sense of humour, I fear.”

As Eleanor paused, unsure of what to say to this strange woman, Mary shrugged. “Well, enough of that.” She reached out a hand, caressing Eleanor’s cheek, surprising her. What the hell?

“I am here to give you some advice. In the name of God, of course, for I am but his humble worshipper, speaking his words, his will. Step aside from your course. God will not forgive anyone who forsakes him, drawing on powers profane and blasphemous. I would hate to see your beautiful skin burnt black from the fires of perdition." She gave a brilliant smile, and Eleanor was still frozen, shocked at the knowing words of the woman. “Of course, should you be prepared to abandon your foolish ways, the Church, the true Church, can reach out a caring, compassionate hand to you. Your companions too.” Her gaze went to the other members of her party, as they were spread around the room. “I suggest you think about it. Do you really want to offend God?” Mary shrugged again. “Well, I understand you might be confused, but do think about my words. After all, did not Satan tempt Jesus by offering him all he wished for when he was in the wilderness for forty days and forty nights? It may seem wise, the only way, to accept the gifts of Devils, false gods, but the price paid is always more than you can bear. Now, I must take my leave, now I have seen you all. I daresay we will meet again. If you decide you wish to know more of what is truly going on, or wish to repent, feel free to call Mr Power. He can get in touch with me. Now, I see some of your companions are coming, so I shall take my leave. Farewell for now, princess.”

As Mary Stuart swept away, David and Sarah strode up to Eleanor, watching her go.

“Who the hell was she? Damn, she was fine.” David whistled. “That hair, those eyes. Nice.”

“Ach, shut up, you pig.” Sarah chided him, and as they started arguing again, Eleanor looked down at the card, with the strange name shining silver, an email and mobile number below it. Just who was she? It seemed... it seemed she knew about everything. Is she chosen like me? But... For a long moment Eleanor remained frozen, thinking. I need to speak to grandmother about this... after all, didn’t she just threaten me to my face? Or did she? I don’t really know. Religious allegory isn’t my strongest suit. I only go to Church at Christmas and Easter...

Shaking her head, she shook off her sudden gloom. After all, they had achieved their goal in the mirrored London, so letting some strange priest upset her would be foolish. No, nobody dangerous would be here anyway, the guest list has been vetted by my father and grandmother. She was probably just concerned for me. Still, if she is like us, she could have been clearer. Well, in any case, if she is, I’ll see her again, as grandmother will recruit her to protect other cities, other places. Now, I could use another drink...