The sorceress stroked her beloved snakes, closing her shimmering cloak around them, before closing the door and leaving the cottage.
There was a small chance that the curse could be broken. But the remote isolation in which Serafine had hidden herself would surely prevent that occurrence.
The cold-hearted sorceress took to the skies again, flying up the mountain pass in search of her recalcitrant niece. The elfin blood in her veins enabled her to fly, but it had not been there since her birth. The powerful blood had been drunk after Serpentine had captured and murdered an elfin girl. Her actions had started a war when the girl’s kind had learned of Serpentine’s treachery, but she had powerful allies on her side. So far, the elves had been unable to punish her despicable deed.
She also had excellent night vision due to the bat tonic and owl brain potion which she drank regularly. It would not do to let herself become weak or frail. Of course, her temper would have its due, but first things first; her revenge would come later. She must capture the princess and her opal.
Serpentine smiled as she thought of the tortures she would inflict upon Serese before commanding Forn to have his way with her. Perhaps she would start with the princess’s valuable mare… She would inflict no lasting harm on Serese herself, at least not of the kind which left visible marks.
The princess was destined to rule with her and it would not do to make her too much of an enemy from the very start, but she would soon learn who wielded the most power. Serpentine glided in the night sky as the golden moon hid itself behind threaded strands of clouds. Try as she could, she saw no trace of her niece, or the boy or the wolf below. Not even foot prints to reveal their whereabouts.
Then Serpentine smelled the wolf. Her elfin enhanced senses recognized the lupine scent. She could discern shapes moving below on the ground through the early morning mist.
But every time, she tried to descend through the fibrous clouds, an invisible hand steered her back and she could not break through. Elfin magic was most likely to blame; she wished she could crush the interfering opal into dust. After a half a dozen attempts, the sorceress screamed in rage and flew back toward her tower.
Serpentine knew there was a counter spell in her library of sorcery manuscripts and she would not let that contrary jewel thwart her again.
Serese and her companions heard the scream; the princess cried out as the opal stung her hand. They continued, each worrying about Serafine and hoping against hope that the lovely enchantress had survived her sister’s visit. Serese had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she did not.
Chapter Eleven
Lord Forn was propped upright in his mahogany bed, held carefully in place by several embroidered cushions behind him. The shutters were closed and the only light in his richly decorated chamber came from iron candelabra on a marble table. And the roaring fire which barely kept the chills away.
His arms and legs were mottled purple as the bruises from the trolls’ sticks worked their way to his skin’s surface.
His darkly handsome looks were marred by the trolls’ attack upon him. His smooth tan skin was blackened with bruises and his sensual lips were cut and swollen.
He remembered being carried by them to his castle. He could remember nothing after that.
It hurt to raise himself up into a sitting position but he forced himself to stay alert. Everything in him wanted to surrender to the blissful forgetfulness of sleep but he knew he needed to fetch his intended. Before Serpentine got her hooks into her.
A frown was firmly etched upon his face and he shook his head as Albrecht spooned another bite of thin gruel into him. The elderly manservant surrendered, placing the unappetizing bowl of mush on the ebony table next to the bed.
“Have cook prepare some venison with roasted potatoes. I refuse to eat this offensive slop. Do not gape at me like a turtle; help me out of this bed! I need to recover that slippery girl again.”
Albrecht raised his grey eyebrows doubtfully, “Aye, Sir, but how will you escape from the troll sentry which brought you back?”
“Are they still here? I would dearly love to see all of the trolls obliterated. They ate my horse.”
“They are troublesome.” Albrecht agreed, “Your herd of swine has nearly been depleted; I have seen them eyeing your stables. You will not have a stallion left to ride, if you do not send them packing. I am afraid they may eat some of the plumper servants. If I were not such a wizened old stick, I would be in danger myself.”
Lord Forn chuckled despite the pain it induced in his sprained ribs and replied,
“Well, let us be thankful for your advanced state of years then. Although I pity the troll which bites you. You have plenty of fight left in your dried-out bones.”
He groaned and clutched his sides when his stomach churned again. What cursed tonic had Serpentine poisoned him with this time?
Lord Forn had not succumbed to his stepmother’s control easily during his youth; he had been the reluctant partaker of many potions as she had sought to make him more pliable.
Even now, at the ripe old age of twenty-six summers, he still retained a stubborn splinter in his heart. Try as she might, Serpentine could not pull it out.
Lord Forn thought of Serese, who continually eluded him and he found himself admiring her ability to outmaneuver him. He remembered the feel of her velvet neck when he had lifted it to inspect her mark. Her violet eyes had tempted him with their tenderness and he wanted to kiss her sweet lips. He would make her his. She would not escape from him forever.
He had been lucid yesterday and his Captain-of-arms had visited him. Gregory had told him the most fantastic tale.
Lord Forn had listened to his explanation of Serese’s death and of the brave shepherd boy who had killed the responsible wolf. But he did not believe them. He felt her existence within a secret recess in his heart. He suspected his stepmother had been behind the trolls’ attack on him. Most likely, the princess had outwitted her as well.
How then had the girl fooled his seasoned fighting men? Who was this shepherd boy escorting her?
Serpentine must think he was responsible for the princess’s freedom; it made more sense than the fact that Serese was a more worthy adversary than everyone thought. She was so beautiful, her obvious cunning was overlooked.
Lord Forn and Albrecht turned their heads to the door as they heard scratching coming from the other side.
They were not expecting company. The scratches came from a low position on the door; most trolls were at least a hand taller than men. Of course, a troll would break the door with their pounding, not bother with annoying scratching.
The scratches were followed by a low-pitched growl and an anxious whine. Albrecht looked at his master and Lord Forn motioned for him to open the latched door.
Albrecht obeyed, letting in a dignified black wolf with a sense of urgency in his manner. The manservant recognized his old friend and gave him a quick pat on his black glossy head.
The wolf held his nose high and his ears upright as he trotted to Lord Forn’s massive bed and sat on the floor, looking expectantly at him. Albrecht noticed his lord grimaced at seeing the canine.
Lord Forn recalled the pain which had surrounded him before this wolf had rescued him. He suspected that the wolf had bit a few of the troll offenders and that gave him some small comfort.
Lord Forn said, “Leave us, Albrecht, I wish to speak with this wolf privately.”
Albrecht obeyed, relieved that the wolf emissary had finally arrived to assist his master.
Lord Forn exerted great effort in leaning over his bed to peer down at the wolf, who evenly met his gaze, “If Serese is not well, I will be put out with you. I have endured a great deal of trouble on her account. She holds the key to my freedom. Besides, I find myself unable to stop thinking of her.”
“My lord, she is safe—accompanied by our great king, himself, and also by a surprisingly hardy shepherd boy. Now it is you I must protect; a goblin detachment has been deplo
yed to murder you. The forest animals have relayed their departure to us. You must leave quickly!”
“As you can see, I am in no condition to flee. I could not even sit a horse if you tied me to the saddle.” Lord Forn sighed as he struggled to move. The sharp pain in his side caused him to swear softly under his breath.
“Is Serese’s guardian a grey and white wolf with golden eyes which see through your soul?”
“Yes, my lord, he is the same wolf who restrained himself mightily when he bit you. He regrets that he was forced to injure you. But protecting Serese is his sole mission.”
Lord Forn chuckled at that and then stared in concern as the black wolf jumped on the bed, leaning over his face.
The ill lord shrunk back from the wolf breath which assailed him, but refrained from complaining as the wolf’s saliva dribbled into his mouth. He had heard stories of the wolves’ healing powers and he braced himself against the weight of the heavy beast on his sore stomach.
The wolf’s spit worked its way down Lord Forn’s throat and battled the poison in his stomach. He clutched his sides as pain churned inside of him like miniature dueling boars attacking one another.
Then, the astonished lord stopped grimacing as he felt the sickness departing from his body. He stretched freely. The black wolf breathed on the lord’s mottled arms and legs. The bruises and cuts miraculously disappeared.
Lord Forn grinned as he felt remarkably fit, springing out of his bed as nimbly as the wolf. He was back in his magnificent splendor. The sparkle had returned to his brown eyes; even his black hair was shining. His olive skin was blemish free, even his stubble had been eradicated.
He attired quickly, placing his sword in its jeweled sheath, buckling it around his waist and pulling his thigh-high black boots over his woolen leggings.
He slipped his favorite dagger into its hiding place in his right boot, and he said, “I will not forget this kindness you have shown me. Let us dispense with the trolls.”
“They have been dealt with, my lord. They are sleeping now. I breathed on their supper and they will be out of commission for several days. We will meet again when you belong only to yourself and to your beloved.”
The lord bowed his dark head in acknowledgment of the great service rendered to him. The dark wolf bowed his shaggy head in return. Then the wolf ran out of the chamber and his nails could be heard clicking down the marble hallway.
The energized lord called for Albrecht. His manservant shuffled in and he gave orders for his two best stallions to be readied.
It did not occur to the prince to cover the grey crystal ball which squatted on his table in its claw-footed base. The linen cloth which normally kept it hidden had been carelessly thrown aside in Lord Forn’s hurry to dress.
The two men made plans, not knowing that Serpentine watched them through the murky depths of the iridescent globe.
The sorceress glared at them with unconcealed hatred in her eyes. It was unfortunate that Lord Forn did not see her white face staring at them. Had he known they were being spied upon, he might have minded his words more carefully.
Chapter Twelve
As the sun began its descent, Sir Roan chose a good location for them in which to rest. They were situated underneath a boulder overhang, which offered a respite from the biting wind. The rocky foothills of Mt. Balzac protected them from prying eyes while thorny scrub brush served as firewood.
Serese watched as Jonathan shook some dried herbs, from a pouch, over mutton.
“Did you cook often?” she asked as Jonathan placed the herbs back in his satchel. The rosemary, in particular, smelled delicious.
Jonathan grinned, “I was the youngest of four boys. My mother needed my help in order to tend to my younger sisters.”
“I was not allowed in the kitchens.” Serese said, “I realize why Father had me train with his knights. At the time, I thought he was disappointed I was not a boy.”
Jonathan glanced at Serese and thought to himself that he was glad she was a girl; a more beautiful one he had never seen. He found it inconceivable that she had trained with knights; surely the girl had a vivid imagination. He imagined her dressed in a fine nightshift, reclining on a bed, with her arms reaching out for him. Shaking his head, Jonathan hoped Serese did not notice the wayward direction of his thoughts.
Sir Roan searched for branches, bringing them to feed the fire. Serese readied their sleeping quarters by placing sheepskins against the innermost wall. Jonathan staked his sheepskin tent in front of the entrance, making a cozy hideaway.
Jonathan removed a flat rock from his satchel, placing it in the fire as a makeshift pan on which to heat their supper. Truly, the princess longed for a nice cod covered in butter. The sight of mutton made her stomach roil. If she survived this ordeal, she would ask Cook to prepare fish with white wine at every supper.
After they had finished eating, Serese leaned back against the cliff wall, asking Jonathan, “How is it you came to be a shepherd?”
Jonathan said, “My father was a tutor of the mystical arts, before the troubles came. I have four older brothers who are all apprenticed. When my turn came, the coin was gone. I hoped for a better opportunity.”
Serese raised her eyebrow, “I am your better opportunity then. I fear I have only placed you in greater danger.”
“Sheep will blindly follow the sheep in front of them, only to plunge down a cliff. I want to be like the wolf, a leader. But, practicing with sticks only goes so far. I must learn sword play.”
Sir Roan’s gruff voice broke in, “Jonathan, Serese herself, could teach you how to handle a blade. She is also quite skilled with her bow.
Jonathan looked surprised, and asked, “You truly were taught archery and knife play?”
“I told you I trained with my father’s knights. Are you calling me a liar? Do you think I embroidered cushions and arranged flowers all day long?”
“I am certain you are very capable,” Jonathan soothed, wisely keeping his views on the pastimes of royal ladies to himself.
Serese frowned as she sauntered over to Jonathan, standing with her hands on her hips, her boot tapping the ground. Her eyes had a stubborn light in them. Her cheeks were flushed.
“Hand me your bow, shepherd. I will need an arrow too.” Serese commanded.
Jonathan obeyed as he stammered, “I meant no disrespect. Only, you are different from the girls in my village.”
Serese fitted the crudely made bow to her shoulder and notched the arrow. Scanning the shrubs in the distance, she saw a bush with branches sticking out. It was a good horse’s gallop away from them and Serese said, “That bent branch on the large shrub which looks like a granny’s finger—I will place this arrow in it.”
She ignored the expression of disbelief which flitted across Jonathan’s face. She let the arrow fly. It soared gracefully through the air and landed exactly where Serese had said it would. It was a difficult target, even for an accomplished archer, and Jonathan was impressed.
“Nicely done, Princess,” he said with sincere admiration.
Serese bowed her head in acknowledgement and handed the bow back to the shepherd. Jonathan knew that every lovesick prince within ten kingdoms would be seeking her hand. He was in no way worthy of her, but, perhaps if he were knighted someday…
Serese sat before the flames of the fire. Had she seen an auburn-haired fairy twirling amidst them? She caught Jonathan’s eye before replying, “I will squire you to the knight of your choosing, should it come to that.”
“Thank you, princess. I cannot thank you enough for your kindness. I bid you goodnight, my lady.” Jonathan fetched his arrow out of the branch and withdrew into the shelter of the overhang.
Sir Roan yawned, “Will you be retiring soon, Serese?”
“Yes. I need to think a bit.” The princess smiled at the wolf as he brushed against her with his tail, before settling on his pallet within the tented enclosure.
Serese needed to be alone. She had seen the fire faeri
e queen swaying in the red-gold flames of their fire. The feisty faerie must want words with her as well.
It would be helpful to question the faerie, without her companions’ interference. Of course, her aunt had warned her not to converse with the fire faerie queen. But Serese felt confident her opal would protect her. There were answers she wanted from Serpentine’s spy. Chief among them was the fate of her Aunt Serafine. Secondly, Serese wanted to learn what she could about this faerie who possibly knew the concoction necessary to destroy Serpentine.
Serese gathered her cloak around her, leaning forward, and watched the flames closely, waiting for the mysterious queen to appear. While she waited, she withdrew her spell book and whispered another incantation, “Heat shall pierce my enemy fierce. Beams of light, her darkness alight.”
The mesmerizing faerie did not disappoint when a kindling stick crackled and a red mist enveloped one particular flame. The burning stick jumped out of the fire and increased in size.
While Serese watched, the flame rose higher until it was as tall as the princess herself. Soft grey smoke embraced the glowing orange shadow, which gradually took on the shape of a woman. Then a gust of wind blew the smoke away, revealing the auburn-haired, amber-eyed faerie queen, who scowled at the princess.
Serese could not help it, she found herself being impolite, and staring open-mouthed at the exquisite creature.
Serese was accustomed to sumptuous clothing but the golden overskirt dusted with hundreds of rubies was extraordinary, especially since the rubies glowed.
Queen Amber’s auburn hair seemed like tongues of fire as it wound around and around her tiny waist.
Serese knew she wanted to press Queen Amber for information regarding—she could not remember. The faerie queen spread her red-veined wings open, as if in a welcoming embrace. What was it Serese had wanted to ask her? Her mind was unsettled.
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