Tales of Enchantment 2: The Quest

by Kai Andersen

  He sheathed his sword, his face grim. “You bet I’ll get to the bottom of this.” He led her to sit on the log in front of the campfire. Her mouth watered. “No spoon and fork and golden plate, Princess.” His voice and eyes mocked her.

  She had been so worried that he would explode at the sight of her, not to mention the awkward way they had parted that time in the garden, that she felt a tremendous relief at his milder-than-expected response. She decided to ignore his deliberate mockery. “I use my mouth to eat, Rodin.”

  “No banquet with two dozen dishes, either.”

  “I am not in the habit of practicing gluttony.” She made an impatient sound. “Can we eat first and talk later? I’m soooo hungry.”

  “Right.” He sat beside her and took the spit from the fire. He cut the meat in half and handed one part to her. “Enjoy your dinner, Princess.”

  “Thanks.” She bit into the meat and fanned her mouth. “Whew, hot.” A moment later, she bit and tore off a portion, munching and chewing with gusto. “Mmmm. Delicious.” She turned to Rodin. “You’re a great cook.”

  “You’re awfully easy to please,” he drawled, his tone somehow making his words ironic. “Do you know what you’re eating?”

  She held up a hand. “Please, I don’t want to know. My stomach is more important right now than some fat, cute little creature.”

  Rodin muttered something about “how accurate,” but she couldn’t be sure she heard right. They ate in companionable silence for some time before Rodin asked, “You’ve been following me?”

  Giselda swallowed at his hard voice. “You can’t send me back. It’s almost night, and I’m scared of the dark, and I have a poor sense of direction, and I just know I’d get lost, and --”

  “Princess, just answer the question.”

  The hint of amusement in his voice assured her. “Yes.” She ate some more and then said, “I was hiding out in the stable since last night because I didn’t know when you would leave. Although ...” She took a bite of meat. “... why did you stop so long in front of the stable doors this morning? I was afraid --” She stopped when he choked. “Are you all right?” At his nod, she continued. “Anyway, I didn’t want to take the chance that you’d leave without me. So I wasn’t able to take any provisions. I ate some apples that I picked from the trees during lunch, but I haven’t had a proper meal since last night’s dinner. That’s why I’m so hungry.”

  “The prince means that much to you, does he?” His voice was somber and reflective. “Enough to endure a hungry stomach and a grueling ride across unknown territory? Eating wild animals without the benefit of tables, chairs, or cutlery? Or is it the crown?”

  Giselda’s anger flared. “You wouldn’t understand even if I explained it to you.” In truth, he wasn’t far off the mark. She had been worried about Michael because she had imagined being queen of Ermont someday. But more than that, she was worried that if something bad had happened to Michael, then everyone might blame her father because of the stupid quest, and the king of Ermont was sure to be mad. And what if he started a war with them because of that? She would feel so guilty, because he was on a quest for her.

  “And that sums everything up.” Rodin’s murmured voice held a tinge of bitterness that pierced the fog of her fury.

  She suddenly remembered her words, and how he would have construed them. “Oh, Rodin, I didn’t mean it that way --”

  “Save the explanations, Princess,” he said harshly. “I don’t have any illusions about what and who I am.”

  Giselda straightened her shoulders and said firmly, “Look, this is going to be a tough journey as it is --”

  “Who says you’re coming with me?” Rodin shot back.

  She clutched at his arm. “Rodin, you can’t send me back!”

  “Watch me! If not tonight, then tomorrow morning.”

  “But I’ll get lost and --”

  “I’ll deliver you safely back to the castle before I continue on my mission.”

  “Please, Rodin, don’t send me back.”

  He shrugged off her hands and studied her in the light of the fire for some time before he asked, “He means that much to you?”

  She was silent for awhile before she admitted, “Y-yes.”

  His mouth tightened. “All right. But you do your share of the work -- tending to the horses, cooking, and whatever else there is. You also do everything I say. No arguments, no complaints.”

  “Yes.” She ate the last of her meat and beamed at him.

  “I must be mad for doing this.”

  “I heard that, Rodin, and I promise not to turn you over to the local infirmary for those with a loose screw or two.”

  He laughed, though he stifled it as soon as a sound escaped his lips. “You’re ...” He shot her a puzzled look. “You’re improving.”

  Giselda paused in the act of licking her fingers, thinking over their conversation. He was right; she wasn’t as slow in her thinking process as before. There was something about bantering with Rodin that challenged her and stimulated her brain cells.

  “See, the fresh air is even stimulating my thinking capacity --” She broke off when she noticed Rodin’s intense gaze on her mouth as she licked her fingers. In that instant, heat engulfed her. Mesmerized, she pulled out her forefinger slowly and pushed in her middle finger, her lips pursing as she sucked.

  His eyes blazed, and then he turned his head away.

  Disappointment settled deep in her stomach. For a moment there, he’d looked as though he was about to pounce on her.

  She asked abruptly, “So, are we going in the right direction?” At his blank look, she elaborated, “Will we find Michael in the direction we’re going?”

  “There’s a good chance. The prince and his bodyguards stayed for a night in the last village, and this was the direction they were seen to have taken. When we get to the next village, we’ll establish if they’ve been there. If not, we’ll backtrack and take another way.”

  She nodded. “That’s a good plan.” The pensive air that had come about him puzzled her. “I hope we find him soon.”

  He poked at the campfire logs with a piece of twig, but stayed silent.

  The fire crackled.

  “But this thing about the golden bird -- do you think it is true?”

  Rodin shrugged and continued staring into the fire. “I heard of that legend years ago, and there have been sporadic reports of sightings around the village of Lundren -- where we’re heading, by the way -- but ...” He shrugged again. “So far, nobody has been able to capture it.”

  Reports of sights. Just reports. Nothing concrete.

  “Then this quest is absurd!” Anger and frustration crept into her voice.

  She threw the bone she’d been gnawing on into the fire with such force that it bounced and landed a few feet away. “Michael was never meant to succeed! Why, he could be lost, wandering the countryside, foolishly thinking he could really find this bloody bird when it was all nothing but a figment of some farmer’s imagination, who spun a tale to lull his son to sleep!”

  “There is no evidence to prove that it doesn’t exist.” Rodin’s voice was mild and calm compared to hers, but then, he didn’t have a fiancé wandering about in unfamiliar territory.

  “And there is no evidence to prove that it does!” Giselda stood up in agitation. “I can’t take all this inaction. I’m going to go find him now!”

  “In the dark?”

  She ignored the thread of laughter in his voice and answered with all the bravado she could command. “Yes!”

  “Don’t be foolish, Princess. Sit down. Sit!” The authority infused into that one word had Giselda plopping herself unceremoniously onto the log she had just vacated. He looked at her so intently that her heart pounded. “Listen to me. You cannot find him in this darkness, so don’t even try. You would only get lost, and then I would have two royal -- censored word for the lady’s ears -- to find. I’ve been roaming this area nearly all of my life, so your best bet
for finding your prince would be to stay with me.” He emphasized the last three words.

  “As to the bird, you should trust the wise ones. More than that, you should trust your father. Gods, the man loves you like his own flesh-and-blood daughter. He would not deliberately set up your lover to die. Why, he probably had someone plant a fake yellow bird in Lundren so your lover would have something to bring back.” Rodin paused and grimaced, as if wondering how he could have said what he just had. “He just wants to test his daughter’s future husband, to see if he is really worthy of her. So trust him if you doubt everything else.”

  Giselda managed a shaky laugh at the end of his passionate speech. “You appear to understand my father better than I do.”

  He was back to staring at the fire. “I had the privilege of escorting him on several trips outside of Mithirien. He’s a good man and a wonderful king. He is also a loving father. He could not speak well enough of you and Frederick, although I found it hard at times to reconcile the sweet daughter with the bratty sister who pestered Frederick and stalked us at every turn.” A slight smile hovered around his lips as he glanced at her once before turning his gaze back to the fire as if mesmerized by the dancing flames. “The king never forsook any opportunity to tell me how his life has been enriched by your presence.”

  A lump came into her throat. “I’m afraid I fall short of the high regard he has for me.” She felt like weeping. “Thank you for telling me all this, Rodin.” She sucked in a deep breath. “You’re right; he is a good father. One of the best. Now I am more determined than ever to find Michael. I have to bring him back, safe and sound.”

  “We will.” She wondered at the streak of pain that flashed in his eyes before he stood up. “Where’s Randalin, Princess? That is, if she was the one you rode.”

  “I’ll go get her.”

  “No, you stay put. I’ll do it.”

  He disappeared in the direction she pointed. A moment later, he came back with her mare in tow. He stopped in front of her. “You’ve finished your dinner, right?” At her nod, he handed her the reins. “Rub her down and tie her together with my horse. You’ll find the things in my saddlebag.”

  Giselda led the horse off to the side without complaint. Getting the things from his bag, she began the process of preparing her mare for the night. As she moved from one side of Randalin to the other, she saw Rodin looking broodingly into the fire. He was still at it when she had finished the preparations and tied the reins to the branch beside his horse. She was about to go and sit beside him when she felt the urgent call of nature.

  She slipped into the trees and walked farther into the concealing greenery before she stopped beside a tree trunk. Squatting down, she proceeded to relieve herself. She felt immensely lighter after she was done, remembering that the last time had been when Rodin stopped for lunch. As she walked back to camp, she found herself wondering for the nth time if they would be able to find Michael -- No, there was no wondering about it. They had to find him! They would find him! She would not accept anything less.

  Anyway, she was with Rodin. Rodin, who had always succeeded in his missions. Whatever luck the gods had bestowed on him was sure to rub off on her and her needs, wasn’t it? She should learn to be more optimistic, more --

  A low, menacing growl stopped her in her tracks.

  Chapter Ten

  The hairs at the back of her neck stood up. The sound came from behind. Her heart thundered in fright. Were there wolves in this part of the country? Or bears, lions, tigers? Oh, why hadn’t she bothered to read about things like that before going to her father with that crazy request? Or going against her father and sneaking off on her own?

  She turned around slowly, stopping when another growl sounded. Oh, gods, what was she going to do? She didn’t have her sword with her -- what was she thinking? She didn’t even own a sword! Where was Rodin when she needed him?

  Something rustled to her right and came into her line of vision. She was suddenly staring at a dark shape with neon-green eyes -- malevolent, hungry, and ferocious. It bared its long yellow teeth in a menacing grin. Several low growls sounded from its throat. She backed away, fright lending mobility to her feet. The eyes danced, coming nearer and nearer ...

  “Princess?” A voice called sharply. “Princess, where are you?”

  She whimpered, but stifled the sound. She didn’t want to make any loud noise for fear of inciting attack, but at the same time, she wanted to let Rodin know where she was and her present predicament. Would Rodin be able to take on this wild beast? What if he couldn’t, and she died, or he died, or they both died?

  “You don’t have to do this. I promised we would find him together. Now stop playing and come out.” A hint of exasperation had entered his voice.

  She continued backing toward the camp, one foot shuffling backward after another, keeping her gaze trained on the monstrous eyes. Her heart in her throat, she willed herself to go slowly and not to make any sudden movements, despite the urge to flee, to run as far as she could.

  Then three things happened almost simultaneously.

  “Giselda!”

  Rodin’s roar precipitated more ominous growls as the eyes moved faster in her direction. She screamed, and continued screaming as she turned and ran toward the camp, stumbling and falling in her haste, heedless now of whatever consequences might follow, her one thought to reach the camp where Rodin was, where safety was.

  She ran as fast as her feet could carry her, past the shadowy trees, past the low branches, past the dense leaves that slapped against her face, her goal the bright point of light that grew nearer and brighter with each forward step.

  “Monster!” She shrieked. Her lungs felt like they were about to burst. “Behind me!”

  Rodin rushed past her, his sword at the ready. One glimpse of his grim face displayed his utter seriousness. He had transformed into a fearsome warrior, whose one stroke could kill.

  Giselda continued running, gasping and stumbling, until she reached the camp and huddled close to the fire. She panted with short, shallow breaths, her eyes trained in the direction of the fight, where the leaves rustled violently and harsh sounds of pain and fighting emerged, but she couldn’t see anything. Her heart clenched in fear, this time for Rodin.

  He had to be all right. He had to.

  Then silence, absolute silence in a place where, moments ago, birds trilled and crickets sang. Even the horses were quiet and still. The only sound was that of the fire crackling in front of her. Fear tasted acrid and dry. She stuffed a fist into her mouth as she gave a little sob, terrified, certain that something bad had befallen Rodin.

  The bush that she’d come through moments before suddenly rustled, much like it had when that monstrous thing was stalking her. Eyes wide with terror, she was certain death would come for her in seconds, but she didn’t close her eyes, choosing to stare him in the face until he choked the life from her.

  When a familiar figure stepped out, she couldn’t believe her eyes. She could only stare for long moments, her eyes tracing each limb and appendage until finally meeting the green blaze of his eyes. Giving a wordless cry of relief, she ran across the clearing and threw herself into his arms, heedless of the blood covering him.

  His sword thudded to the ground beside them. She welcomed the tight clasp of his arms around her, the snug feel of his unyielding body against hers, the thundering echo of life in his heart. She leaned into his embrace, her own arms hugging him close.

  He was alive!

  She was alive!

  He kissed her fiercely, his own relief at their safety pouring into the kiss. He plundered her mouth, tasting her moist depths. She responded just as intensely, their kiss an affirmation of life. Tears poured down her cheeks as the emotions overwhelmed her. His lips left hers and traced the path of her tears, placing a soft kiss on each eyelid. “Don’t cry, Princess,” he said hoarsely. “You’re safe now. We’re safe.”

  “We’re safe,” she echoed, smiling at him through e
yes still misty with tears.

  His eyes were yearning and intense as they roved over her face, and his hand was gentle as he caressed her cheek, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. He set her down on her feet, and then he shook her, hard.

  “What do you mean by going beyond the camp?” He roared. “Don’t you know that that’s one thing you should not do? At least, not without telling anybody?”

  His unreasonable fury fired her anger. “I wanted to relieve myself!” she shouted back.

  “You could have let me know!”

  “You were thinking! I didn’t want to disturb you!”

  “Thinking --!” He bit back a curse. “Next time, feel free to disturb me when I’m thinking.”

  “All right! Now stop shaking me! My teeth are about to fall out.”

  Unaccountably, he smiled.

  Damn! But he was so sexy when he smiled. Even Michael couldn’t hold a candle to that smile.

  “Fall out! Now that’s a sight I would love to see.”

  “Maybe when it’s your teeth, but you’re not invited to a private viewing of mine.”

  He laughed. “All right, Princess, we had better get cleaned up for the night. We still have a long day ahead of us.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After they had cleaned up as best as they could with rags and water from Rodin’s canteen, Giselda stood in front of the tent, clutching the blanket Rodin had given her. She hesitated at the entrance.

  “Rodin, I don’t feel good about this, I mean, about taking your tent and your bedroll and your blanket ...”

  “Do you want to sleep on the grass? Under the open sky?”

  She shook her head, rendered mute by the sight of his naked body emerging from inside the tent. He had a nicely muscled chest topped with light-colored curls, and it looked massive and strong and secure. She knew just how safe she’d felt when held against that chest earlier this evening. It tapered to an abdomen that was rock hard and fit, without an ounce of fat on it.