by Quinn Loftis
In fact, according to my mother, there were more people who possessed magical powers and did not know it than those who practiced magic. Those who housed powers but were unaware generally ignored the strange events that often occurred around them. Myra was no such person—she was well-versed in her magical abilities.
With audible mutterings, my men obeyed my command and sheathed their swords. Her hands were clasped, resting in her lap. Her shoulders slumped forward a little, as though she had been carrying heavy bags in both hands for a long time. Her eyes roved, taking in everything about me and my warriors. Regardless how ancient and fragile she appeared, Myra was a formidable force.
“I’ve been called many things over the years: sorceress, enchantress, and, yes, even witch,” she said after a few moments. “While I find such labels ill-fitting for who I really am, I suppose they adequately answer what others really want to know—can I use magic? Yes, I can.”
“Surely the Britons do not condone your use of magic?” I asked.
“I don’t go around calling fire down from the sky, now, do I? To everyone else, I’m but a peddler of healing plants. If, after imbibing my tinctures, some find they have been miraculously healed, well… I make sure to give all credit to Mother Earth, who provides us with these wonderful herbs. Sure, there are some who have suspected over the years, but I have always managed to assuage any suspicions. Most just think me a crackpot or a charlatan. Either is fine with me.”
“So, this kingdom is unkind to those who wield sacred powers?” Amund asked.
“That is putting it mildly. They fear anything they cannot explain. People who are scared make rash decisions.” Myra explained.
I understood what she meant. My people were among the few who openly accepted those with gifts and sought to harness their power rather than shun them… or worse.
“How do you know who I am?” I asked, finally addressing the reason I was sitting in the witch’s home.
“I have seen you, Torben, many times from afar. Over the past year, I have been unable to scry without your face appearing in my bowl. I was not sure when you were coming, but I knew you would be here. Your coming is the mark of a major change in the future of this kingdom as well as that of your own Hakon clan.”
A chill ran down my spine when I heard her say the name of my clan when I had not mentioned it. I did not doubt she had seen what she claimed, especially after hearing my mother’s premonition. “What did you see?”
“Two futures continually appear to me.” Myra began. “One is a future filled with war and cruelty, where Britain is conquered by King Cathal of Tara. King Albric believes the union of his eldest daughter and the king of Tara is of equal benefit to both kingdoms, but he is mistaken. Cathal plans to overtake the kingdom and add it to his empire, making Albric’s people subjects of Tara. Any who resist will be killed or enslaved.”
“That’s encouraging.” Brant grumbled.
“And the other future?” I asked.
“You are to take Allete as your bride, and your union will eventually lead to a peaceful alliance with King Albric. Clan Hakon will prosper with the gift your bride brings to your people. You and Albric will align to defeat Cathal. Although there will be many casualties, you will be victorious.”
“Magnus would never let that happen.” Amund interrupted. “He’s never had much use for allies.”
“Your own chieftain must fall for this future to come to pass,” she responded, eyeing me warily as she spoke.
As I listened to her, I debated whether I should tell her about my mother and her prophecy.
“I already know about Hilda the Oracle.”
My eyes widened. Once again, the witch had managed to surprise me. “What do you know of her?” My soldiers did not know my mother was also a healer, but I needed to know if Myra was aware.
The witch hesitated before speaking. “I know of you mother’s gifts, but they are not common knowledge.”
I nodded my thanks.
“Yet understand that the future is never certain. Regardless of what your mother or I have seen, there is always a chance something else could happen. People are unpredictable. A single act, however seemingly insignificant, can change the course of history,” Myra said.
“I appreciate the information,” I said sincerely—it was reassuring to hear from another seer that my actions were not misguided.
“I have one more thing to offer,” she said, “which has a bit more practical value.” Myra stood and walked to a shelf filled with small vials of powder, liquids, and all manner of unrecognizable substances. On the end of the shelf, an ancient well-worn book rested, its crumbling pages hanging on by the slightest of threads. She laid it on the table between us.
“If you will allow it, I would like to cast a spell over each one of you. This spell will make you appear as a Briton to everyone but your own people, allowing you to blend in—you don’t exactly look like the other men around here.
I heard grumblings from the men standing behind me, but Myra continued, undaunted.
“The spell will also subtly influence the minds of those you encounter. You will be familiar to them, causing them to trust you when they might otherwise question your words or actions. To your own people, if you whisper the word reveal, the spell will lift from their eyes and they will see you clearly beneath the magic. My recommendation to you,” she said, pointing at me, “would be to get on the guard detail assigned to Allete. That way, you can be close to her. You,” she continued, pointing at Brant, “should go with Torben. The rest of you need to spread out among Albric and Cathal’s guards, allowing you to gather information on Cathal’s people and perhaps ferret out any plans he has.”
“Of course,” I answered. We appreciate your help very much, Myra.”
“There is one more thing you should know—another thing I have seen. A time will come when you will be required to offer your own life for Allete’s. At that time, the spell will break.”
I was shocked at her words. At no point had my mother mentioned that the princess’ life would be in danger.
“I’m confused.” I stared at Myra with a puzzled expression on my face. “How will I take the princess as my wife if I am to die for her?” The old woman smirked.
“I never said you would die, only that you would offer your life for hers, but be wary. As I mentioned before, nothing is certain.”
Myra then closed her eyes and flipped through the pages of the ancient book while we sat watching.
“This is mad,” Kjell whispered.
“Agreed,” I said in return, “but it might be the only chance we have to succeed.” I heard the reluctant agreement from the others and thanked the gods my men trusted me.
“Quiet now,” Myra told them as she walked toward me. She placed her hands on my head and closed her eyes, speaking in a language unfamiliar to me. Warmth radiated from her hands and flowed over me like cascading water. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but it was strange. I felt my hair shorten, leaving my neck bare and the rest of me feeling naked. I looked down at my clothes, and I no longer wore my warrior garments, but was instead dressed in the uniform of an English guard. After she was done with me, she moved to Brant, repeating the process. This continued until she had touched the heads of each of my men and cast her magic over them. When she was finished, she handed us a looking glass so we could get accustomed to our new appearances. I could not help but chuckle at how different we each looked.
“I miss my hair already,” Brant muttered.
“You will live,” I told him.
“Or maybe you will not,” Rush offered with a rueful smile.
“You must never return to see me while you remain in this form. I don’t get visits from castle guards. If anyone saw you coming or going, it would arouse suspicion.”
“Are you in danger?” I felt it was my duty to make sure she was safe, just like I would want my mother protected from those who would hurt her because of her abilities.
“I can t
ake care of myself,” she answered with a small smile. It was silly of me to think a witch of her power couldn’t protect herself.
She motioned for us to follow her and opened a door at the back of her store. “Make haste to the castle and take your necessary places. What follows is a chess match—the pieces must be in the right place for the enemy king to be taken.”
“Thank you for your help,” I said.
She patted my shoulder affectionately, and then she motioned for us to go. I hurried out with my warriors trailing behind me. We moved with purpose, attempting to blend in with the other guards walking nearby. When we reached the entrance to the inner castle grounds, we were stopped by the gatekeeper.
“Your assignment?” He called down from his post.
“Two of us have been added to the guard detail of the princess. The other five are reporting to receive their orders,” I yelled back. I was holding my breath, waiting to see if Myra’s spell would prove effective.
“Open the gate,” he finally said.
A collective sigh whooshed out from us all as we watched the gates slowly open. One hurdle crossed. Now we must convince both kings’ guards that we belonged.
“What do we do if someone denies our claim?” Kjell whispered.
I set my lips in a grim line and answered. “We stick to our story no matter what. The more confident we act, the less they will question us.”
“This is going to be fun,” Amund said.
Brant snorted. “We seriously need to discuss your ideas of fun, Amund. You are beginning to worry me.”
“You are just now worrying about him?” Delvin asked.
“I tend to be unobservant until it is absolutely necessary.”
“You say unobservant where others might say dimwitted.” I teased.
“Do not fret, general,” Brant said coolly. “I will retaliate.”
“Please refrain until after we have live through the ordeal,” I said dryly. “Now, shut your traps and pay attention.”
“I cannot wait to see you panting at the princess’ feet.” Brant chuckled.
“What makes you think she will not be panting at my feet?” I asked, forgetting I had just told him to be silent.
“Because she has breasts and you do not.” The other men attempted to cover their laughter with coughs. My thoughts were racing with everything we had learned. I needed to get my mind back to reality. The lives of my men, and my clan, were depending on it.
“It is official. I am marrying a demon. Sure, he may look like a man. He may walk and talk like a man, but a man he is not. He is the spawn of some evil creature, sent to earth to torment me. That is the only logical conclusion that can be drawn. No man would treat his future wife and her family the way Cathal has treated us.”
* * *
~Diary of Princess Allete Auvray
As I stared up at the ceiling in my bedchambers, my eyes refused to become heavy. I had finally convinced my mother and sister to retire to their own rooms, assuring them that I was not going to throw myself from my window to escape my fate, though I was sorely tempted. I was more concerned about my mother’s mental state much more than my own. She was much more upset at Cathal’s behavior than I had originally anticipated. I hoped she would not do anything rash.
Trepidation about the following day kept me from my rest. I would be expected to spend most of my day in the company of my future husband and I would rather clean out the chamber pots in every room in the castle than be with Cathal. I chuckled silently as I imagined the shocked faces of the castle court if they saw me carrying chamber pots in the dress Cathal expected me to wear.
“Ugh!” I groaned. “Why could he not just be a kind old man looking for companionship in his old age?” I asked the quiet room. I wouldn’t have romance, of course, but at least I wouldn’t be disrespected—or worse—fear for my safety. I suppose I could wish that my circumstances were different until I was blue in the face, but that would not change anything.
After another hour of tossing and turning, I finally drifted off into a restless sleep. Dreams of a dragon with the head of Cathal tormented my mind, leaving me feeling shaky and overwhelmed. No matter how many times I told myself it was just a dream, the fear in my belly would not diminish.
When my eyes snapped open the following morning, I felt as though a heard of wild boar had done a jig in my head. The pain was nauseating. I climbed out of bed, grabbed my robe, and wrapped it tightly around me. There was a knock at my door and my stomach dropped. I was not ready to face Cathal. I walked slowly toward the door and jumped when a second, and louder knock, rang out.
I took a deep breath as I grasped the handle and pulled the door open. I came face to face with a broad chest clothed by a palace guard uniform. For once, it wasn’t Captain Clay. That thought flew out the window when I tilted my head back, and still farther back, as I looked up at the person who owned the impressive chest. My eyes widened as I saw the stern silver eyes staring down at me. He was breathtaking. There really was no other way to describe the fierce looking man before me. He was not pretty. He was too masculine for pretty. He was striking. His unwavering stare and large, solid frame was incredibly intimidating and yet I was not afraid of him. Something in his gaze was…protective of me. I knew that he would never hurt me.
“Princess.” The man finally spoke and his deep voice caused chill bumps to rise all over my arms.
“Who are you?” I asked, once I had finally found the good sense to close my mouth and quit drooling like an adolescent staring at her first crush.
“Forgive me for bothering you, your highness,” the guard rumbled. “Brant,” he motioned to the even larger mountain standing behind him, who I had yet to even notice, “and I have been assigned to your guard detail.”
“Uh-huh,” I said slowly. My eyes narrowed as I glanced at the one called Brant and then back at the vision in front of me that had spoken. “And who exactly are you?”
His lips twitched as if he was amused by my scrutiny. He bowed his head slightly. “I am Torben.”
“Torben,” I repeated as if he was speaking another language. What was wrong with me? A handsome face and mesmerizing voice seemed to be enough to turn me into a brainless ninny. But really, what kind of name was Torben? I don’t think I’d ever heard it before. It certainly did not sound native.
“Yes, Torben. I know my name is unique. I’m not sure how my mother came up with it. I’ve asked her plenty of times, but she never gives me a straight answer.”
“Uh-huh,” I responded, once again showing my brilliant linguistic abilities. I stood there staring up at him stupidly while he stared back at me. Torben did not seem to feel awkward about the silence between us. He stood stock, still simply staring at me, as if he would not mind spending the entire day doing just that. I, on the other hand, fought the urge to shift from foot to foot under his intensity.
The other one, Brant, cleared his throat and the trance between us lifted. My brain, which I knew I still possessed somewhere in my head, suddenly reengaged. “My father did not inform me that I was getting a new guard,” I said, watching closely to see if my words caused any insecurity in Torben. I knew many of the palace guards and certainly all the ones assigned to my protection. My father would have informed me if there was to be a change among the men.
“I am sure he has not had time to tell you, just yet. It may not be my place to tell you, but he was concerned that the fire that was started last eve might be more than just an accident,” Torben answered calmly. “He wanted to make sure you were protected, especially with all the visitors in the castle.”
Either this man was truly my new assigned guard, or he was as smooth as churned butter at lying. I couldn’t tell for certain, but he didn’t feel evil to me. I didn’t have any supernatural ability to discern a person’s intentions. However, my power has, at times in the past, warned me about danger. I didn’t understand how it worked, but I guessed it was a defense mechanism to alert me when I was in the process of he
aling someone. During those times, my attention was completely focused on my task and I was vulnerable, so knowing if danger is close at hand is important.
This sixth sense, as I had come to call it, had saved me in the past. Once I came upon a rabbit that had been attacked by a predator. As I knelt to check the frightened creature’s wounds, I was completely unaware that a wolf was hiding close by in the foliage. Just as I placed my hands upon the rabbit to heal the scratches and bites, an overwhelming feeling of being watched came over me. I jumped up and yelled, spinning in place. The wolf, startled, matched my yelp, and bolted away, leaving the rabbit and I behind. Since that day, I’ve never ignored my sixth sense when it tells me danger is near.
“Princess, are you all right?” Torben asked me. I shook my head and refocused. His voice was musical, but that wasn’t what had drawn my attention. It was the large hand that was currently resting on my shoulder. He was touching me.
“You are touching me,” I said stupidly, as if the man did not know he had placed his hand on my shoulder.
A small smile tugged at his full lips. “I am,” he said without apology. “I called your name several times but you did not respond.”
I looked from his hand back to his face. “Oh.” That was my brilliant response. I shook my head and took a step backward. I needed to put some distance between myself and this new guard. Something about him, I didn’t know what, disarmed me.
“Thank you for introducing yourself, Torben. I need to ready myself for the day. If that is all, good day.” I said all of that with the speed of an exuberant child and then shrugged off his hand before quickly shutting the door right in his handsome, yet confused face.
I stared at the closed door as though if I looked at it long enough I would be able to see straight through it to the man beyond. After several minutes, I slowly turned away from the door and let out a shuttering breath. I had never felt so shaken over anyone. Do not get me wrong, I had noticed handsome men in the past, but none of them caught my attention the way Torben had. Something about him captivated me, which, in turn, made me sound like a bumbling idiot. I shook my head as if I could remove the image of him from my mind and began my morning routine. It would be the first time I would have to spend the entire day with King Cathal. The thought was nauseating. Being in his presence was the equivalent of allowing chickens to peck out my eyes, only the chickens would probably be better conversationalists.