Enchantress

by Christine Schumaker

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jonathan wished Serese would have a miraculous recovery; she was a solid weight for a girl. He had an ache in his neck and in his back which grew steadily stronger. He felt her budding womanhood through her cape, on his shoulders, and he sighed. If only he had a fortune or a title.

  His leather boots crunched over the thin layer of ice covering the path. A most annoying rock had lodged itself in his left boot. Of course, he could not remove it because both of his hands were needed to pull his boot off. He carefully shifted Serese further down his shoulder, balancing her against a tree trunk as he used one hand to dig underneath his sock for the offending rock. He could not reach it. Angrily, he tapped his heel against the tree trunk, sending the rock to his toes, where it bothered him less.

  Sir Roan sniffed deeply, quickening his pace and Jonathan hoped the wolf had smelled their destination. He did not want to drop the princess. He longed to be rid of the rock in between his toes.

  They turned around a large pine tree and suddenly they were out of the forest and in an open clearing. The frozen meadow before them lay at the base of the Balzac mountain chain.

  The largest Balzac mountain peak soared before them. Jonathan noticed the black stone tower atop it and shivered; never in his entire life did he think he would be this near to it.

  Then Jonathan looked to the edge of the meadow and gasped—a stone house of two stories with leaded windows stood before them. It was handsomely made, obviously a royal hunting cottage, with a fireplace on each side. The young man and the wolf paused at the edge of the meadow, taking in the magnificent view.

  Several stately oak trees leaned over the house, like a protective mother. A snow-covered wisteria vine nestled against its front door. The wolf sniffed eagerly and whined.

  Sir Roan looked at Jonathan and said, “Fortune smiles on us, for Lord Forn sleeps within. All we need to do is place some of the enchanted liquid on his lips and he will be free from the curse.”

  “It seems deceptively simple.” Jonathan said, “How do you plan to accomplish this? It is said that elf blood runs in him. He will be sure to outwit or overpower us.” Jonathan did not like the thought of attacking this nasty lord alone, with only a wolf for company. Magical or not, the odds were against them.

  Sir Roan smiled and winked, “Aye, it is full of gloom and doom you are. Think boy, we have got what he wants. We put a few drops of the potion on her lips. He wakes to kiss his prize and we thank the stars above! He is set free and a force to be reckoned with for our side!”

  Jonathan had to admit it sounded plausible notwithstanding any unforeseen difficulties which could arise. For instance, a ghoul could pay an unexpected visit, a tree troll could sniff them out or Lord Forn could kill them. Or, a party of elves could pay an unexpected visit and Jonathan did not want to witness their ire.

  Then there was the matter of Serese’s opal; what if it thought they were harming the princess instead of helping her? The charm could blast them, annihilating them both instantly.

  Jonathan frowned and followed the wolf into the cottage, right through the unlocked front door. “This is not a good omen,” Jonathan said, “Lord Forn must be very confident. He has not bothered to latch the door.”

  Carefully, he carried the princess into a sapphire-painted room with a golden bed and walls hung with tapestries. There was one with bluebirds nesting in a blooming tree. Another with butterflies fluttering above a violet rose bush—that scene drew his gaze again after he had deposited Serese on the dusty bed. That rose bush was the same as the one atop the rock pile.

  Jonathan’s arms had goose bumps on them as he realized it was the very same rose bush. For there atop it, stitched in violet thread, loomed an outrageously large rose.

  Whose hunting domain had they trespassed into? The only comfort he found was the dust which made him sneeze as he settled Serese underneath the covers. They were likely safe from any royal hunting parties. The place had a layer of dust which signified that it had not been visited in a very long time. Of course, that could change any moment.

  But he reached into the pocket of Serese’s gown and withdrew the silver chalice; so far, it hadn’t erupted into flames and scorched him.

  He carefully uncorked it, cautiously dribbling a drop of the rose-scented liquid onto Serese’s lips. The princess stirred as some color returned to her cheeks but she did not awaken. It was not the response he was hoping for; if only she would wake up, she was a force to be reckoned with. But she remained senseless and Jonathan frowned; asleep, her magic was worthless to them.

  The shepherd returned the flask to Serese’s pocket. He sat in a cushioned butterfly patterned chair which seemed as if it, too, wanted to take flight. He could relate to the feeling.

  He wondered what sort of royal lady had occupied this room. Obviously, she had enjoyed the outdoors and he wondered if she had also accompanied her husband on his hunts. Only the ruling class ladies were catered to thusly and allowed on such dangerous excursions.

  Then he remembered that this lodge was situated high in the Balzac mountain range where typical game was scarce. The hunters who quartered themselves in this well-appointed cottage were after bigger, more dangerous prey—this lodge had been built to hunt dragons.

  Jonathan desperately hoped they did not rouse one of them, should any of them be tucked away in a cliff hole hereabouts. He kept his eyes on the resting girl as he watched and waited. As much as he tried to keep his eyes open, exhaustion overtook him and he fell asleep in the chair.

  Sir Roan crept into Lord Forn’s room where he saw the exhausted man, snoring in his sleep. The wolf sat by his bedside. Sir Roan waited half the night until finally the man moved restlessly and sensed he was not alone in the room.

  He leaned on one arm, peering down at the wolf next to his bed and frowned, “I really should cut your throat for that bite you gave me. But since you were protecting Serese, I cannot blame you. I assume she is with you. I hope for your sake she is well. I have had a devil of a time trying to rescue her.”

  “Well, I have had more adventures than a wolf of my age would prefer in protecting her while you languished in your stepmother’s castle.” Sir Roan stared at the man in the bed.

  “Is that so?” Lord Forn asked, “Take me to her, wolf.”

  Lord Forn slowly climbed out of the bed, wincing at the pain in his head. Gesturing impatiently, he followed Sir Roan, who led him to Serese.

  The weary lord stood next to the bed, gazing at her. He could not tear his eyes away from her pale face. Serese had scratches on her right cheek and brambles in her hair. Her lips were partly open, seeming in need of a kiss. Her braid tumbled next to her cheek while her neck begged for kisses to be trailed upon it.

  Lord Forn knelt beside Serese and smoothed her hair away from her forehead. Then he tenderly kissed her lips.

  Jonathan slowly rose out of his chair and joined Sir Roan. He frowned at the lord raining kisses on Serese’s neck. The shepherd cleared his throat.

  An irritated lord rose to his feet and said, “The spell still has a grip on me. The legend said true love’s kiss would release me. Why I am not free.”

  Sir Roan pointed out, “Well, perhaps she needs to be awake. You see, a ghoul fed on her memories and she is quite senseless.”

  “Why did you not tell me?” Lord Forn asked as he withdrew a ring from his tunic pocket. “Their poison is not easily removed. Come, wolf king, I will require some of your enchanted spit.”

  Sir Roan obliged the lord and approached the bed. Jonathan watched with curiosity and envy as the lord placed the diamond ring on Serese’s finger.

  “I will need you to dribble saliva on her when the opal begins to burn her skin. It will be battling two kinds of evil now. The damage to her mind and the curse in my heart. Let us pray it has the strength for it. This ring belonged to my mother. It is elfin made and will aid the opal.”

  Lord Forn bent his head toward Serese’s face. The lord paused before her mout
h as he inhaled the scent of her breath. Then Lord Forn kissed her and found his soul suspended in space as peace filled his heart. The frozen recesses of Lord Forn’s soul thawed as if a brilliant sun had risen in its icy corners.

  As the kiss deepened, the opal released sparks which grew under the onslaught of Lord Forn’s passion. A tendril of smoke escaped from the opal and a scorched mark appeared on Serese’s bosom. Sir Roan jumped on the bed and drooled over the burn.

  Jonathan blushed as Lord Forn ravished Serese’s lips with his own, groaning with pleasure as the princess stirred restlessly.

  With a guttural cry, the lord tore his mouth free as a great weight released from his heart. Serese sighed in her sleep as color bloomed on her cheeks. Her countenance changed from its former worry to one of peace.

  The enchanted liquid on Serese’s lips had cured Lord Forn of the mind curse which had made him Serpentine’s plaything. The cruel hand which had gripped his heart had been torn away. He felt weak as he stumbled onto his knees. The shackles which had bound him to his stepmother were severed.

  Lord Forn looked into the face of his beloved and said, “I will be flesh of your flesh and bone of your bone. My heart, my soul, my hearth, and my throne you shall own. Our children, our castle, my kingdom—your home.”

  Sir Roan wagged the tip of his tail in anticipation and Jonathan moved closer to watch. The sleeping princess stirred slightly but remained in her current state. The bewildered lord looked at Sir Roan.

  The wise wolf shook his head, “She must surrender to your love. As long as she is senseless, I do not see how that will happen.”

  Lord Forn had an idea. He sat on the bed, next to Serese as he began the most enlivening experiment of his life.

  He lavished passionate kisses upon Serese’s lips, her cheeks, her brow, her throat. From a quiet place inside her heart, a tiny flame appeared. The fire grew brighter as Lord Forn’s kisses grew more frenzied. Jonathan turned away in embarrassment. Even Sir Roan could not believe Lord Forn’s audacity and was about to berate him.

  But Serese squirmed restlessly and moaned and the wolf bit back his retort. Then she awoke, opening her eyes. Serese saw Lord Forn sitting practically on top of her and she gasped.

  Lord Forn quickly stood, leaning over his beloved. Then Serese noticed the ring on her left hand.

  “It has happened, has it not? You are in your right mind and you have proposed to me again. How is it I have missed this?”

  “You were attacked by a ghoul,” Jonathan began.

  “I have always loved you. I will have no other,” Lord Forn said.

  “It is the healing potion which we placed on your lips and which he has kissed. It has healed him-” Sir Roan added. They all spoke all at once so Serese could make no sense of their words.

  “Stop!” she pleaded, “Please start from the forest, which is the last thing I remember.”

  Jonathan recalled the earlier events while Serese listened. She looked to Sir Roan for confirmation and the wolf said, “That is the way of it, princess.”

  Lord Forn took Serese’s hand in his, “Will you marry me?”

  “My heart tells me we are destined to reign together. Yes, my lord, I will marry you.” Serese smiled, suddenly shy as Lord Forn gathered her into his arms.

  “I have longed for this moment, my darling.” Lord Forn murmured into his beloved’s ear as his lips rained kisses down her cheek. Then he took her chin in his hand and placed a most scintillating kiss on her mouth, causing the princess to blush prettily.

  The countenance of Lord Forn’s face softened as the opal charm flickered tiny rays of pink light in approval. Jonathan sighed with disappointment.

  The shepherd frowned as his hopes for a future with Serese faded with each gleam from the enchanted stone. Lord Forn kissed Serese so passionately that even Sir Roan growled in apprehension. The wolf king said, “That is quite enough Lord Forn. You know the way of it. She must be wedded before she is bedded. Control yourself, man!”

  Jonathan’s color rose as he asked, “Does this mean our quest to kill Serpentine will be delayed? Are we to plan your wedding?”

  Lord Forn reluctantly pulled away from Serese and faced Jonathan. The shepherd’s eyes were flashing with jealousy as he scowled at him. Lord Forn realized then that the boy had harbored tender feelings for Serese. He could not blame the lad; Serese bewitched every male who came within her view. He decided to tread softly as he replied,

  “We may not consummate our marriage until Serpentine has been dealt with. There is also the matter of the dragon underneath her tower.”

  Jonathan asked, “That rumor is certain then? How shall we find a dragon slayer this time of the year?”

  Lord Forn said, “I plan on avoiding the slumbering beast. It is highly likely he will sleep undisturbed throughout our attack.”

  “Let us hope you are correct, my lord. I am unprepared to battle against such a creature.”

  Serese did not seem concerned by their conversation. She kept her violet eyes trained on Lord Forn’s brown ones as the smitten prince said, “I have waited far too long for you to love me in return. I promise nothing shall come between us. Not even dragons.” Lord Forn kissed Serese’s flushed face again. Jonathan turned his head away.

  If he were honest with himself, the shepherd would admit that his chances with Serese had ended. She had never gazed so lovingly at him the way she stared at Lord Forn. “Well,” he muttered, “If I survive, I will be a wealthy man. I will find my own bride.”

  “There may be some wine in the cellar,” he said, as an excuse to leave the enamored love birds in privacy.

  “That is an excellent idea, Jonathan,” Lord Forn smiled as he took Serese’s small hand into his own. The two of them had eyes only for each other.

  Lord Forn once again gathered Serese into his arms and kissed her as she had never been kissed before. The princess let herself be crushed against his chest as Lord Forn kissed her cheeks, her brow, her neck, her bosom. She melted against him like butter in a kitchen maid’s skillet. When his hand reached into her bodice, gently cupping her tender womanly bud, she knew she must protect her virtue.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Regretfully, Serese pulled away from her betrothed, dragging Lord Forn with her to meet Sir Roan and Jonathan in the great room. Jonathan had found some preserved pears and some strips of unrecognizable dried meat. He feared he was making stew out of some poor dragon’s flesh. He hoped there were no dragon kin nearby to exact vengeance. But the meat smelled like rabbit once it had softened in the cooking pot. The ultimate bounty had been a keg of spiced wine, which Jonathan had already tapped and sampled.

  They ate heartily of the meal and the excellent wine put them all in good spirits. They sat, most of them content, around the cozy fire. Serese let Lord Forn hold her hand. He caressed her palm with his rough fingers which set her heart to pounding.

  Serese noticed the flickering wings in the flames first. She nudged Lord Forn who also observed the swaying form of Amber, in their midst.

  The hot-tempered faerie danced languorously in the roaring fire and Jonathan could not keep his eyes away. He crept closer to the flickering flames.

  Suddenly, the Fire Faerie Queen materialized on the hearth, leaving burning cinders on the floor. Jonathan jumped back, stamping them out as Amber smiled warmly at them.

  “I see Forn’s curse has been broken. Give the opal to me. I will spare your lives. We could defeat Serpentine together,” the smoky voice of the Fire Faerie Queen purred.

  Serese struggled to approach Amber but Lord Forn held her firmly to him.

  “That is close enough, my love, that one is not to be trusted; I’ve had dealings with her in the past,” he warned.

  “As have I. I thought my opal had crippled her. But here she is again.” Serese sighed in annoyance as she glared at the feisty faerie queen.

  Serese thought she had dispensed Amber for a good many years. Was that not what Sir Roan had told her? Well, clear
ly he was not familiar with all aspects of faerie rejuvenation.

  “The opal only works with good magic,” Serese told the Fire Faerie Queen, as she impatiently twisted out of Lord Forn’s grasp.

  The angry faerie sprung into the air, rushing close to Lord Forn, with a fiery wand held aloft in her hand. The princess put herself in front of her fiancé as she tried to protect him from the faerie’s coming onslaught. The lord chuckled, “Step aside, my darling, and let me deal with her.”

  Serese left her fiancé’s side, an amused expression on her face. So, he did not value her aid? She would prove to him how useful she could be in a fight as she grasped her opal and held it before her. Nothing happened. The stone was cold. Frustrated, Serese stood next to Lord Forn and watched as the Fire Faerie Queen stalked her future husband.

  Amber circled around Lord Forn, trying to get close enough to burn him with the dancing flame on her wand. But no matter how near she got, Lord Forn sidled away at the last moment. Serese smiled at his quick reflexes; he reminded her of a wily bear eluding a huntsman.

  Jonathan observed the proceedings from across the room, his bow trained on Amber’s sinewy form. He wanted to see her comeuppance. He admitted he would also relish the chance to witness Lord Forn’s fighting tactics. He had heard that the elves were most accomplished in defensive arts.

  Lord Forn said, “It seems you are not welcome. Since you demonstrate a deplorable lack of manners, I must escort you out.” Then, he raised his right hand and uttered, “Be thou taken by winds of fate, for thou hast seen thy fill of hate.”

  A shocked expression appeared on Amber’s face as Lord Forn raised his little finger, spinning the faerie queen in a circle. The prince had mastery over his elfin powers and the surprise was evident in Amber’s cry, “No! It cannot be!” as the faerie found herself ensnared in Forn’s magic.

  “Tell your fairie friends to expect the same treatment if they interfere with us,” Lord Forn said grimly, while rotating his finger more quickly.