Ella and the Panther's Quest

by Lisa Anne Nisula

  “I thought I was done with you.” He turned toward me with the knife. I was able to grab at the handle and push the knife away. The knife missed my chest, but I felt it cut along my arm, just below my elbow, slicing through the velvet and sending pain through me. I could feel blood on my arm and searing pain along the path of the blade, but I refused to look down and see what had been done to me, keeping all my attention on getting the knife as far away from me as I could.

  Nathaniel was on his feet again. He ran at Crawa, teeth and claws bared. Crawa turned away from me again. Nathaniel was a more immediate threat to him than I was. I backed up to the wall, keeping out of the way of the battle now that Nathaniel was back in it.

  Nathaniel threw himself at Crawa’s arm, grabbing his sleeve and shaking until Crawa dropped the knife.

  I watched the two of them struggling, Crawa resorting to physical attacks since Nathaniel wasn’t leaving him time to concentrate on a spell, and looked for any opening, any chance to help. When Crawa tried to hit Nathaniel over the head with the fallen tapestry rod, I saw a chance and ran forward to snatch the knife, Crawa’s one physical weapon that I could see. I tried to ignore the blood dripping on the floor, a good bit of it mine. I brought the knife back to the wall with me and tried to shrink into the shadows.

  Crawa had somehow managed to shake off Nathaniel, flinging him back to the stairs leading to the throne hard enough for the sound of his head hitting the stone to be audible even to me at the other end of the room. While Nathaniel was stunned, Crawa got down on his hands and knees and began feeling for the knife, desperately patting every inch of the floor. I shrank further back into the shadows. I could see Feste hiding in the corner across from me, trying to stay out of the way just like I was.

  But I must have moved the knife, must have reflected a bit of light toward Crawa, because he looked up at me and saw the blade.

  “You again. Will you never stop plaguing me?” Crawa crawled across the floor, then leapt to his feet and ran at me.

  I held up both the sword and the knife, not sure how to fend off this new attack.

  Crawa was no longer sane. His hands were clawed, his eyes slitted with rage, his teeth bared as he snarled, “You will not escape this.” He reached for my throat.

  I dodged, stabbing my sword in his direction. The sword still glanced off him. He grabbed at my throat, but I held the sword in front of me and, even though I couldn’t hurt him with it, he could not get around it to get at me.

  Crawa screamed, tears of rage and frustration streaming down his face. He lunged at me again, clutching the knife and forcing it back at my chest. I pressed myself hard against the wall, keeping the sword in front of me and trying to think of a way out while my mind was clouded with fear. I turned to Nathaniel.

  Nathaniel had pulled himself up so he was sitting on the step. He shook his head and looked around the room. I could feel the second his eyes landed on me. One instant he was seated on the dais stairs; the next he was in the air, teeth bared, claws unsheathed, growling. “Leave her!”

  I held the sword steady in one place so Nathaniel would not have to change course to avoid it, although in his present state I doubted he’d even notice if he ran into the blade. Then I closed my eyes. I did not want to see what was coming.

  But I heard it. Crawa whimpered, a sound like he’d just realized how formidable an enemy he was facing. Then the thud, the sound of Nathaniel’s body slamming into the wizard. I winced at the sound of the gold trim of Crawa’s robes scraping against the steel of the sword. The sword was heavy now, and I struggled to hold it upright. Crawa made a sound, not a scream or a moan, something less alive and more afraid. And then there was silence. No sound but Nathaniel’s panting.

  I thought I should move, or at least open my eyes, but I had a pretty good idea of what those sounds had meant, and I did not want to see the result.

  “Ella, drop the sword.” Nathaniel’s voice was soft, gentle, and in complete control of the situation. I let go of the sword. There was no clatter of metal hitting stone, only a wet sort of clunk.

  The arm that had held the sword started to tremble. I wanted to stop it, but it wasn’t long before I was shaking all over. I leaned against the wall, trying to get control of myself.

  I felt Nathaniel’s side press against my legs. “Put your hand on my back.” He pressed his shoulder against the back of my hand until I buried my palm in his fur, feeling safe for the first time since I’d entered the throne room. Nathaniel led me away from the remains of the battle, sometimes pressing against my legs to steer me.

  “We’re by the dais. You can open your eyes now.”

  When I opened my eyes, I was facing the thrones. I took another step forward and sank down on the third step from the bottom, resting my elbow on the step above and my head on my hand, keeping my head turned away from the rest of the room.

  I could feel Nathaniel close by. He sat on the step beside me, his side pressed against my legs, his tail curling around me and patting my shoulders. I buried my trembling hands in his fur. He moved a little closer and his tail nudged me until I was leaning against his side. “I am sorry it took me so long. I forgot about the doors, or I didn’t think of them. I never had to before.” He held up his paw in explanation.

  “It’s all right.”

  Nathaniel turned his head back to the room. “You can look. From here it’s not so bad.”

  I pulled away from him and turned to face the room. Crawa was lying on the floor, the sword sticking out of his chest. There was a pool of blood forming by his side, but most of what I saw was a tangle of torn robes and cobweb hair.

  I noticed something else but kept quiet. Nathaniel got up and went to take a closer look at his fallen enemy. As I watched Nathaniel cross the room, his tail flicking from side to side, I wondered if Nathaniel had realized it too.

  Chapter 29

  Nathaniel circled Crawa’s body. The strange blue light glinted off the gold trim of the wizard’s robes. It was still dark. Nathaniel raised his paw and batted at the sleeve, then pulled his paw back and looked around the room.

  “Maybe things are different outside. Maybe the riddle wasn’t to break my curse. Maybe my curse isn’t part of the darkness.” Nathaniel ran to the window and looked out. I could tell from where I sat things were just as dark outside as they had been before, but Nathaniel ran from one window to another, getting more desperate as each window showed nothing but darkness. He made it all the way around the room and came back to sit at the foot of the dais steps.

  “It didn’t work,” Nathaniel whispered. He looked up at me. “I failed.” He dropped his head to the ground and lay there, as still as he had been in the cage when I had first seen him.

  I slid off the step and sat down on the floor beside him, searching for words that might comfort him. I couldn’t find any; I doubted there was anything I could say. I reached out, my hand hovering over him, wondering whether or not he wanted me there. Nathaniel sighed, a hollow sound that rattled around like there was nothing left in him. I let my arm drop on his back, stroking him.

  Nathaniel leaned toward me, his head almost resting on my lap. He opened his eyes. “You’re wounded.”

  “Mmm?” I was so intent on his problems, I had forgotten about my arm.

  Nathaniel sat up and looked the wound. He made a move with his paw like he was going to examine my arm, then draw back when he realized he couldn’t. “So I’ve failed you too.” I saw his eyes well up.

  “You didn’t fail me. If I had … “

  Nathaniel shook his head. “No, no, you’ve done more to help my people than I could ever expect. I didn’t understand. I didn’t ask. I didn’t … ” His voice faded into a sob. I felt warm tears land on my arm. I expected it to burn as the tears landed on my cut, but they felt cool as they slid down my arm across the wound.

  I was going to stroke Nathaniel’s shoulder again, going to insist he had done all that could be expected of him, but I was distracted by a beam of golde
n light dancing across the floor. Light. Sunlight. Nathaniel saw my gaze and turned. He watched the narrow shaft of light as it crept across the floor and over the steps toward us.

  The light skittered over the stairs until it touched Nathaniel’s tail, turning the fur gold. It expanded, spreading along his tail, then growing to cover his back and legs. I felt him shudder as the light seemed to swallow him. He pulled away from me, his back arching and twisting, gold light swirling around him, the convulsions taking him up the last of stairs to the dais. After a particularly violent spasm, he remained upright, his paws leaning against the arms of the throne closest to us. I rose from the floor and went to him, not sure how to help him, or if he even needed help, but wanting to be there if he did.

  The gold light was getting more intense, spreading over Nathaniel’s body and turning his fur gold. Then the light scattered, shattering the fur and leaving Nathaniel there, naked, furless, a man. He leaned against the throne with his head down, dark human hair falling forward, hiding his face. I could see the angry red patch on his shoulder where he’d been burned, and even recognize some of the cat in his posture. I pulled the cloak from my shoulders and wrapped Nathaniel in it.

  As Nathaniel clutched the cloak around himself, he saw his right hand. He held it out, stretching his fingers, turning his wrist. The sunlight glittered off the large sapphire ring on his finger. “It’s mine, my hand.” It was his voice, a bit less gruff, not quite as deep, but I recognized it at once.

  I smiled. I was tempted to reach out and stroke his hand, as I would have when he was a cat, but I resisted and simply said, “It’s a lovely hand.”

  Nathaniel made a fist and released it, then brushed his hair away from his face. It was a nice face, noble, I decided, with a strong chin, full lips, and the same green eyes I remembered from his panther form. Before I could find more words, Nathaniel snapped upright. “Feste?” He stumbled away from the throne, unsteady on his legs and exhausted from the battle, and staggered to the steps. I grabbed his arm to steady him, putting my other arm around his waist. Nathaniel leaned on me. “Feste?”

  “Yes, my liege.” A small man stepped out of the corner. He was balding, with a pliable face and large brown eyes sparkling with good humor. He was dressed in blue velvet with silver fringe and tassels, the costume of a court jester.

  “You’re all right, Feste. You’re all right.”

  “Of course, my liege.” Feste came forward and supported Nathaniel’s other arm. Nathaniel brushed away Feste’s help. He caught Feste in a hug instead. “My friend.”

  Feste embraced Nathaniel. When Nathaniel broke away, he caught my hand. “Ella, this is Feste.”

  “It is nice to finally speak to you, my lady.” Feste took my hand from Nathaniel and bowed over it.

  I decided I liked Feste even more as a human than I had as a footstool. You couldn’t help but like the sweet little man. I wanted to say something nice to him, something more interesting than “Pleased to meet you,” but I was saved from having to come up with a good answer by Nathaniel. He staggered and almost fell down the steps. Feste and I each grabbed an arm and helped him to sit on the top step.

  “Rest a moment, my liege,” Feste said.

  But Nathaniel would not rest. As soon as he was seated, he looked at my arm again. “Where is your bag? Do you still have some of Mistress Leone’s salve or did you use it all on my burn?”

  Feste slipped away from Nathaniel’s side. I was left trying to get him to rest. “My lord, it barely hurts. I can take care of it later.”

  Nathaniel ignored me. He was examining my shoulder. “Where did you get that burn?”

  “My lord, you need to rest.”

  Nathaniel touched the singed cloth of my sleeve. “This happened while I was struggling with the doors, didn’t it? I am so sorry. If I’d been sooner, I could have spared you this.” Nathaniel gently stroked the skin around the burn with his ring finger.

  “My lord…”

  “Here’s Feste.”

  Feste was there, holding out my bag. Nathaniel took it and set it on his lap. “May I?”

  I just stared at him. I had just begun to get used to the gentler panther, the one who told me stories and wanted to know about my world. I was not quite sure how to behave with this handsome human prince seated before me, especially when he was looking at me so intently.

  Nathaniel took my silence as permission and opened my bag. I could tell he was trying to disturb as few of my possessions as possible and stopped looking as soon as he found the jar of salve. I knew he was trying to hide it, but I could tell he was still exhausted by the strain on his face and the way his hand shook as he put my bag on the floor by my feet.

  “My lord, Nathaniel, you need to rest.”

  Nathaniel looked up and smiled at me. “I wondered when you’d go back to that. And you need to rest too, but first your wounds must be cared for and bound up with clean cloth.”

  “I’ll get some,” Feste offered and left us again.

  Nathaniel opened the jar of salve and put it on the step beside us. I gave in and let Nathaniel take my hand. He guided my arm into a position where he could reach the cut on my forearm, then took the velvet of the sleeve and ripped it up to my shoulder before tearing the sleeve away completely. He held my arm where he wanted it with his left hand and dipped his right fingers into the salve. I gritted my teeth, expecting it to hurt.

  Nathaniel’s fingers were cool and gentle as he dabbed the salve along the wound, soothing the sharp pain in my arm. The salve might have helped a bit too.

  “Is that better?”

  “Yes, it is.” It really did feel much better.

  “Good, then let me see the burn.”

  I turned a bit so he could look at the burn. Nathaniel dipped his fingers back into the jar and leaned in with his head almost touching my neck, one arm around my shoulder holding me where he wanted me. As he dabbed the salve along the burn, Nathaniel’s hair fell forward, brushing against my back.

  I closed my eyes. The coolness was spreading over my arm, covering the pain.

  Nathaniel stopped dabbing at my wounds. I felt his hand stroking my back through the velvet of the dress. I drifted to the side, almost resting my head on him.

  Then there was the sound of soft footsteps and the tinkling of bells. I opened my eyes and pulled away. Nathaniel dropped his arm and straightened up. Feste was trying to enter quietly and carrying a bundle of cloth which he left on the steps by Nathaniel. “I brought you some clothes as well.”

  “Thank you.” Nathaniel took the strips of linen Feste had left on top. He took my hand again, drawing it out. He wrapped my forearm first, snug but not tight, tying the ends neatly. His fingers brushed against my inner arm as he prepared to wrap my burn.

  And then, “All done.”

  “Thank you, my — Nathaniel.”

  Nathaniel smiled when I corrected myself. “You’re welcome. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Nathaniel picked up the bundle of clothes and climbed the stairs. I heard the rustle of the heavy velvet curtains and guessed Nathaniel had slipped behind the thrones and back into the doorway he’d come through to dress. I stared straight ahead.

  In a few minutes, there was the rustle of the curtain again and Nathaniel came out, wearing a loose linen tunic belted at the waist, green velvet leggings and soft leather boots. He seemed stronger and more alert, as if the enchantment was wearing off and he was regaining his human footing. He left the folded cloak on one of the thrones and sat down beside me again. His hand moved, as if he was going to lean back and rest it behind me, or around me, but he changed his mind mid-gesture and pushed his hair back instead.

  “We’ll need food, then baths and beds.”

  Feste straightened.

  “I don’t expect you to do all that, Feste. We’ll all go down to the kitchen and figure something out for dinner. But first I want a look at your foot. I almost forgot about that.”

  Before I had a chance to protest, Nathaniel was sitting tai
lor-style on the floor at my feet. He took my right foot in his lap, pulled off my filthy shoe and muddy sock and tossed them aside, then gently probed my foot, paying attention to where it was tender and when I winced at his touch, then massaged a bit of salve into it, paying special attention to the ankle.

  “Not much swelling; that’s good. You’ll need to rest it now.” His cool hands were still stroking my ankle when I heard a humming sound, like a harp string that had been plucked and kept vibrating. Then there was a scent, nothing I could identify, almost like there was more oxygen in the air. I turned to Nathaniel. He looked surprised, but not alarmed. He seemed to know what was happening, so I was more curious than afraid as I looked around.

  There was a silvery glow in the room now, coming from above us on the dais. I drew my foot away from Nathaniel and turned toward the new light.

  The light surrounded a woman in a gown of pale green, with sleeves that flowed to the floor. Her silver blonde hair reached her waist and was held back from her face by a circlet of silver vines. I guessed at once who she was: Sagessa, the sorceress. She smiled at Nathaniel.

  “You solved it.”

  Nathaniel got to his feet. “In spite of you.”

  She remained serene as she said, “But I gave you the key to break the curse.”

  Nathaniel stared at Sagessa. “But you said … No you didn’t; did you?”

  Sagessa smiled. “No, you heard what you wanted to hear. You wanted revenge, so you heard a call for vengeance. Crawa’s blood and Crawa’s tears. But it was your tears, and blood spilled on your behalf, that was needed. Crawa was quite proud of himself when he thought of that curse. He insisted you were too proud, too much of a lord, to cry in front of a knight.”

  Nathaniel smiled wryly. “He knew me well then.”

  Sagessa smiled again and went on. “But I knew you would have more sense than to choose a knight as a hero.”

  Nathaniel opened his mouth to protest, but then he saw that Sagessa was not looking at him but at Feste. Instead he muttered, “You could have been clearer.”