“Dang it! I almost had it that time,” smiled Amelliea, snapping her fingers.
“Almost doesn’t count,” said Galvan before checking the time on the watch. “You broke the most important rule—and what did I teach you about distraction?”
“Well, you have two arms to use, one to distract with and the other to steal with, where as I only have the one!”
“That didn’t seem like a problem when you sparred with me the other day. I had to fight for my life!”
Amelliea playfully elbowed him in the ribs. “You had it all under control.”
“Come, it is late, let me walk you to your chambers,” offered the Prince
“That’s alright Galvan, you don’t have to. I know the way and am not afraid of the dark.”
“Please, I insist,” said the Prince.
Together, they made their way through the dark corridors enjoying the charged but comfortable silence between them. Galvan moved to Amelliea’s other side and took her hand.
“Does it bother you?” she asked.
“Does what bother me?”
“You know, my missing an arm? Its just, some people don’t view me as whole, they think of me as incomplete or broken, and all they see is what’s missing.”
“Amelliea, your differences only make you more interesting, for they tell the story of a warrior who chose a life of courage and adventure in spite of a physical obstacle. And make no mistake, missing an arm is an obstacle that could easily leave a less daring person bemoaning his fate till the end of his days.”
They reached her chambers and Galvan bid her good night, gallantly kissing her hand before retreating down the hall the same way they had come together. Watching him leave, Amelliea felt that they were closer than ever, and that Galvan had somehow managed to win her heart even though she had kept it well guarded. She stepped inside her chamber and inhaled sharply. A giant golden harp stood in the middle of the living room with a plush upholstered stool sitting beside it.
Chapter 32
Hidden in the Mist
“Gold again,” sighed Bloom in disappointment, as he pried open yet another rusty treasure chest. He was beginning to think he would never find the scroll. The treasure had all but lost its worth to him, since scarcity was what created value, and gold was buried in every hillside. Bloom scooped the sparkling rounds into the purse unenthusiastically. He missed his daughter. It had been several weeks since he had left Amelliea in the palace, and although the charmed purse appeared truly bottomless and had plenty of room yet to fill, and in deed he had found more treasure than he could even keep track of, he had grown weary of the endless wandering. The point of his journey was to find the Map of Inquisition, and he felt no closer to it than he had when he first learned of it. Moreover, he felt a growing urgency to leave the dreadful mountainous place that now held him captive, having captured his imagination with desire. The Wanderers Mountains held many secrets, and though Bloom had seen nothing strange with his own eyes, he felt the danger with his skin. He slept lightly, jarring awake at the slightest noise. More than once he had awoken in the night to what sounded like whispers of human conversation. At such times Bloom had rushed outside his tent, and with a racing heart peered into the darkness, only to find silent plumes of mist drifting eerily among the trees.
The fog became thicker with each day, blotting out the world in a damp dripping haze. Bloom had began to think of the mist as an entity unto itself, masking from him the truth of his whereabouts and preventing the success of his search. More and more often he felt as though he were being watched. Out of loneliness, Bloom began talking to himself, for he knew this would help him sustain courage and keep sanity.
As he walked, he had plenty of time to consider the reasons why so many had chosen to bury their treasures in such a wretched place. It was likely because they had believed that what they hid would never be found. Here in the land of endless mist, where every gully and mountainside looked exactly the same as the next, it seemed in deed a secure place to hide a secret with confidence. Yet what so many did not understand was that they themselves were unlikely to ever find their own treasure again, for no map could mark such a shifty place. Bloom knew he was not the first treasure hunter to traverse the Wanderers Mountains and he wondered what had happened to the others since the abundance of treasure pointed to their lack of success in obtaining it.
Bloom sloshed through a large puddle at the bottom of a steep slope and stepped onto the incline of the next mountain rising immediately before him. Long ago he had left the path he was on when he first ventured into the mist. If not for the compass Amelliea had gifted him Bloom would have surely been lost, for he could not see the sun nor orient by the stars from inside the forest due to the mist. The trees were too weak and spindly to support his weight so he dared not climb their withered branches. Digging his staff into the dirt Bloom pressed on, climbing higher with each step. He grabbed the branch of a tree and pulled himself forward. That was when he noticed a heart carved into the bark of the tree trunk. Initials he could not make out were deeply cut into the wood. The wound had long ago formed a smooth scar in the bark that bled even now with several crystalized teardrops of sap. There was a hollow below the bottom branch where a darkened metal box lay mostly hidden by a pile of rotten leaves. Bloom checked his map. An X glowed twenty paces to his right, but the hollow was unmarked on the enchanted parchment. He reached in and retrieved the box from the tree. Sitting down in the dirt, he found the container unlocked and he opened it without much trouble. Inside, the box was filled with folded letters, and a tattered portrait of a woman. This was someone’s most valued treasure, much more precious than gold and jewels, thought Bloom. He unfolded one of the letters and began to read.
My dearest Maddy,
You are my sweetest dream, the only love my heart has ever known. I cherish every memory of you, and guard your portrait with my life. Lost in the Wanderers Mountains, I fear I am unable to return. Never again am I to kiss your tender cheek. Can it be true? My heart is breaking, and even now the pen does tremble in my hand. Know this my Princess; you are the reason that I breathe! In my search for treasures I have lost the only thing that truly ever mattered. It is my fate to realize only now all that you mean to me. This separation is unbearable. Dare I even hope of a second chance at your heart? Might I even wish that you wait for me still? Only to see you one last time—even in passing, would bless my tortured soul and let me rest in peace at last. I beg you Maddy, please forgive me. It seems in death I break my final promise. Yet I trust someday my written words shall find you, and you will know at length that I gave my last step, and took my final breath in search of you alone, my beloved, my only precious treasure.
—Your Henry—
Bloom finished reading and held up the portrait of the woman. She had long hair and dark eyes that seemed to emanate an otherworldly beauty. She was quite young, perhaps in her early twenties. The profile of her face was soft and pleasing, with features as unperturbed as only youth itself could draw. She smiled slightly, with only the corners of her lips. A sweet and innocent expression captured in a moment of simple pleasure.
Bloom took the letters and the portrait and tucked them into his pack. How long had they been there in the hollow? It was time to bring them to the one who had waited for them—if it was not to late!
Getting up, Bloom moved on once more, working his way up the mountainside. Breaking a sweat under his soiled robes, he dug his fingers into the loose dirt to keep his balance on the steep slope. Ignoring his neglected state, he pressed on ever forward. Water dripping from his beard, he took one big step after the next until he found himself upon the crest of the mountain. Deciding to stop for a brief spell, he pulled out the enchanted parchment and found that it marked a location nearby with an X that outshone all the previous treasures with ten times the brightness. Thinking that it might at last be the Map of Inquisition, Bloom found the marked spot and began to dig.
He dug for a long time, wo
rking around large rocks and the roots of trees until finally, his shovel struck a hollow sounding object. Bloom knelt and uncovered a fairly small, round container. He brushed away several hardened clumps of dirt and broke the vessel open with his hands. Inside he found a sizable, light blue gemstone. As the stone slid across the bottom of the container, it formed six more identical, sparkling stones. Bloom fell to his knees. “Merlin’s beard!” he exclaimed, “It is a condensation stone!” He knew this was a rare find in deed, for a condensation stone could duplicate itself an infinite number of times and was in and of itself a source of endless treasure. Bloom carefully found the original stone that had created the others and folded his new find into his handkerchief before placing it inside his breast pocket. He dropped the other blue gemstones inside the enchanted wallet, not wanting to waste them. Bloom felt suddenly lonely as he knelt there on the wet ground, so he pulled out another letter from his pack and began to read.
My Dearest Maddy,
I vowed never again to leave your side, and yet I am here on this hopeless search, so many leagues from home. Why did I come this way? I curse my lack of reason! I should have listened to you Maddy—I should have stayed! My folly has now led me to my grave. I am a haunted man. What good is all this gold, its touch as cold as winter? It does not warm my heart. I look upon my riches with bitter tears of loss. Only a mad man would leave your blessed side and take a chance on such a wretched venture. So angry with myself am I, that now and then I strike at mine own chest in furious futility.
My darling, when was the date that we had set to marry? Was it the 4th of Marling? That day has come and gone, but all the pain of missing this engagement has only just begun. I close my eyes and see you dressed in dazzling white before me, white as the flawless snow that I do ruin with my clumsy steps. I fear I’ve ended it—our lovely life together, and now all that remains of our divine and simple future, are silver-colored dreams that never are to be.
—Your Henry—
Bloom folded the letter back up, letting the creases fall the way the parchment remembered them. Who was this man? His pain felt so familiar. Bloom wondered if he would die in the Wanderers Mountains as Henry had. He shuddered at the thought and shook his head as if to shed it from his mind. The scroll—he had to find the scroll! Bloom forced himself to rise. His body sore from digging and his muscles stiff with cold, he shouldered his pack and made his way forward along the crest of the mountain.
He could see nothing to either side of him due to the ever-present fog that erased the entire world from his sight. Trying to orient himself, Bloom pulled out his compass. The arrow ran half way around the face of the dial, and then doubled back, as if it had forgotten something. Before the hands could clearly indicate which direction was North, Bloom tripped on something in the mist and dropped the compass. It fell, unharmed upon the dirt before him. Bloom looked behind to see what root he had not spied that he had tripped on, and finding nothing there at all, he turned around once more only to find the compass gone.
Chapter 33
Sand in the Wind
In the morning Amelliea awoke feeling elated by her dinner with the Prince the night before, and she danced about her quarters in her pink nightgown imagining what she would say to Galvan next and what he would reply. She sat before the golden harp and was pleased to discover that it was perfectly in tune. Amelliea strummed the strings and thought of the Prince and the way his jet black hair fell across his gorgeous face. She knew that he had almost kissed her, and she felt her crush spinning out of control. Did he feel the same? Was this true love? What if he asked her to marry him? No! He would never ask her that—but what if he did? What would she say? She would say yes, of course! Oh but he wouldn’t ask. How could he? Amelliea knew she was only a common girl, yet she loved him. What was that worth, she wondered, the love of one common girl?
She heard a ding announcing the arrival of a message, and Amelliea got up and went to the letterbox. She opened the little door to find a note with four words written in Galvan’s loose handwriting. The note read, May I come in? Nodding and pushing out her bottom lip in surprise, Amelliea dipped a quill in some ink and swiftly wrote the word ‘yes,’ on a fresh piece of parchment. She rolled up her note and tied it with a ribbon before placing it in the box and sending it up. She grabbed a handful of her hair and glancing in the mirror, turned her head this way and that, wondering how best to pin it up.
A thud issued from what sounded like her bedroom. Amelliea looked up, and to her utter horror saw her bookshelf push forward and the Prince step into her bedroom through a trap door.
“Oh my goodness!” screamed Amelliea.
“I thought you said yes?” smiled Galvan without so much as a quiver of guilt. He came towards her without hesitation.
“I did, but—but I didn’t know you would be here so soon! I’m—I’m not dressed!” she said in alarm, turning away upon remembering what she had on.
Galvan came up behind her, “It’s okay, I don’t mind.” He turned her around. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “Even with your tousled hair and your sleep-creased nightwear.”
Amelliea covered her face with her hand. “This isn’t happening,” she muttered.
Galvan laughed and pulled her hand away from her face.
“And how is there’s a trap door in my room?” she asked. “Is there a trap door in every room?”
“Amelliea, come riding with me today?”
“Riding?” asked Amelliea. “What about the combat training?”
“The training lessons have been canceled for the day since my father is holding a meeting in the great hall.”
“Aren’t you required to participate?”
“I asked for permission to spend the day with you, and my father graciously granted me this request.”
Amelliea was stunned. “Well, that’s—that’s…”
“Wonderful?” offered Galvan. He effortlessly scooped her up into his arms as though she weighed nothing. “Do you always smell this good in the mornings?” he asked. He tripped on a fold in the rug, and they fell on the sofa laughing, accidently ending up in each other’s arms.
“Curse that gorgeous rug!” said Galvan, shaking his fist.
“All these riches only get in the way!” joked Amelliea. As if on cue a small silver goblet fell from a shelf above them, and landed on Galvan’s back with a dull thud before rolling onto the floor.
“Ouch!” cried Galvan, and they dissolved in laughter.
Amelliea laid her head on his chest. “What shall I wear for the outing?” she asked, listening to the beating of his heart through his uniform.
“I have it all figured out,” answered the Prince holding her close.
Amelliea wished the moment would never end. She felt happy as never before in her life. There was a knock on the door and a servant brought in breakfast for two and a riding costume for Amelliea. The woman did not look the least bit surprised to find Prince Galvan and Amelliea as they were. Noticing this, Amelliea guessed that by this point word of her courtship with the Prince had spread all across the palace.
“How do you think Gabriellen feels about you and I going riding together?” asked Amelliea.
“She feels fine about it,” answered the Prince calmly. “She’s coming with us.”
Amelliea sat up. “She is?”
“Yes,” replied Galvan.
Amelliea instantly regretted accepting the invitation.
“It’s alright,” said Galvan. “We shall all have a great time together.” He got up and went to the breakfast table followed by Amelliea, who very much doubted his last statement but made an honest attempt to cope with the news the best she could. After all, Gabriellen was not going away, and Amelliea preferred to face her sooner than later. After she and the Prince had eaten, Amelliea went to her room to change. She attached the silver cuff onto her missing arm and fastened the leather straps that held it in place across her undershirt. Next, she pulled on the tunic of the riding costume and roll
ed up one of the sleeves. Getting a little nervous about keeping Galvan waiting, she quickly pulled on the fitted trousers and positioned the padded armored plates around her calves and shoulders. The armor was green in color and was covered in short thorns. Amelliea thought the thorns looked like tiny waves. She strapped on the helmet and glanced in the enchanted mirror. The riding uniform fit perfectly. Amelliea made up her mind to make the most of the situation and take Gabriellen’s anger in stride if she could.
Galvan led Amelliea to the stables where Gabriellen was already waiting for them. The many reptiles lay still as statues on the floor of their individual containment stalls. Only occasionally did one of them snap their massive jaws in a motion quick as lightning. The royal stable was well kept and the green scaly animals lived in what could only be described as reptilian luxury.
“Is she coming with us?” asked Gabriellen, jabbing her chin at Amelliea.
“Yes,” answered the Prince. “Amelliea is my guest also, and I ask you to be nice to her.”
“Being nice is not my forte,” snapped Gabriellen.
“Then you are more than welcome to stay behind,” said Galvan, pulling on his riding gloves. Gabriellen made no reply.
Three servants came in to strap harnesses onto the cold-blooded creatures. Amelliea watched as they handled the reptiles with aptitude, keeping well out of the way when the animals attempted to bite them, and holding the jaws firmly closed when dealing with the neck or head area. The reptiles had several rows of jagged, saw-like teeth which continued to remind everyone of just how dangerous they were.
“A gator’s jaws have great power when they close, but are much weaker when they open,” explained Galvan. “Holding the mouth shut is the best way to keep from being bitten.”
The Curse (The Windore Series Book 2) Page 18