by Kai Andersen
Giselda was exhilarated. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Now as they were spiraling down, she couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping at the sight of the castle. Rodin gently closed her mouth.
Castle of Light, indeed.
The late afternoon sun imbued the castle with a golden glow. The majestic building towered over them, complete with a turret at each of the four corners, and a drawbridge, which was down at the moment, at the entrance. The whole structure was completely made of opaque glass panels, which reflected light -- sunlight, at the moment -- thereby causing it to be bathed perpetually in light.
“Wow!” Giselda slid to the ground by feel, not taking her eyes off the castle. “It’s breathtaking.”
Merry sat on the ground beside the horse, her lips twitching in amusement as her eyes settled on Giselda. “Yes. But for all that, there are some things you need to know before you go in there to get Firelight.”
Rodin turned from tying the reins to a sturdy branch on a nearby tree. “I knew it wouldn’t be easy. All right, Merry. What’s the catch?”
Giselda felt a sliver of fear icing down her back. She tore her eyes away from the imposing structure and reached for Rodin. Her small hand found its way into Rodin’s larger one, and her heart lightened at his reassuring squeeze.
“You caught on fast, young man.” Merry beamed. “The Castle of Light is an enchanted castle. Fortunately for you, when night falls, everyone, as in everyone, falls into an enchanted sleep. No amount of noise you make, even if you shout directly in their ears, would awaken them.”
Rodin smiled. “Sounds like the perfect escapade.”
“You haven’t heard everything yet.” Merry threw him a sharp look of reprimand. “Firelight will be roosting beside the throne, so she should be easy to find. Beside her are two cages, one made of gold and the other made of wood. Now, listen carefully. You must not touch the golden cage at all, but take the wooden cage. I repeat, take the wooden cage.”
Giselda was surprised. “Just like that?”
“Yes. Once you get Firelight and the wooden cage, leave at once. Do not linger.” Merry’s expression was grave and solemn. “Remember my warning and you will succeed in your quest.” She suddenly grimaced. “Heck, I sounded like a fortuneteller.”
“We’ll remember, Merry. Thank you for all your help.”
“What? Driving me away?” Merry’s expression gave way to an amused smile. “I want to stick around and see if you succeed. Besides, you need me to get back.”
* * * * *
They set up camp some distance away. After a light dinner, Rodin and Giselda made their way over the drawbridge and into the castle.
Everything was as Merry described.
In the bright moonlight, the sentries were snoring gently at their respective places beside the gates. Big guard dogs lay panting beside them, caught in their doggie dreams. Knights with their swords at their sides were on the ground in scattered order. Within the castle hall, footmen lay in single file, with platters of food and trays of beverages beside them. Evidently, it was dinner time, or soon to be.
The silence was eerie. It was pure and deafening, making Giselda feel like they were walking through a vacuum. Even the dust motes seemed suspended in midair. Feeling morbid curiosity clawing at her, she bent down and placed one ear near the chest and nose of the nearest statue -- er, motionless person -- on the ground in front of her. No movement and absolutely no breathing! Doubly eerie. Totally weird.
She stood up in a hurry, hugging herself and rubbing her arms in the wintry night. She barely noticed the goosebumps on her arms as she stepped gingerly over each object on the floor and tried to find the way to the throne room, panic rising with each second.
“This way.” Rodin beckoned to her from a few feet away.
The panic loosened. Giselda hurried toward him and slipped her hand into his. “I’m scared.”
His grip tightened. “We’ll be out in no time at all.”
Giselda could tell from his grim tone that the silence was getting to him, as well. The sooner they found the bird, the sooner they could get out.
The scene in the throne room was the same. More knights and pages in drunken positions on the floor. Court ladies bedecked in their jewels and finery sat against the wall, their heads drooping onto the shoulders next to them. It was as if they had expected to fall into their spell-induced sleep at any time and had thus prepared for it.
“Look.”
At Rodin’s soft command, Giselda followed his pointing finger to something that glowed at the end of the room. She whispered, “Firelight.”
It was a phoenix.
She was the only light in the semi-dark room, and the only creature that seemed to be immune to the enchantment. She roosted on her perch, her pose majestic and proud. As they neared, Giselda could see Firelight’s intelligent eyes monitoring their progress alertly, her head cocked as if asking what had taken them so long. Her feathers burned with a soft glow that created a golden aura of light around her.
Giselda forgot about the silence and the still bodies around her.
“Oh, how beautiful you are,” she murmured as she stroked a hand down the bird’s smooth, feathery back.
Firelight hopped, dislodging Giselda’s hand.
“Touchy, aren’t you?” Giselda grinned. Another animal with character. Too bad she didn’t seem to know human-speak. “What is your story, and maybe we can be friends?”
It was Rodin’s amused voice that answered her. “Sorry to interrupt your bonding session, girls, but we need to go.”
“Right, we’ll get to know each other better at a later time. You take her, Rodin.” Giselda turned away and searched for the cage that Merry had said was beside the bird. “She may respond better to a man, while I ... will take the cage. Found it.” She had seen a glint of gold from behind Firelight. Going over, she was entranced by the golden-gilded cage, so bright and beautiful it was in the light of Firelight’s feathers. She barely noticed the wooden cage beside it. “Two of them ...”
“Remember what Merry said, Giselda.” Rodin’s voice sounded distracted. “Take the wooden cage.”
“All right.” Giselda heard the words come out of her mouth, but she couldn’t remember what she was replying to. Her eyes were fixed on the gold, and all her insecurities, all her strivings for wealth and power seemed to culminate at that point. If she could just have it, she would never go hungry again. If she could just have it, she would never have to endure the jeers and mockery of others. If she could just have it…
Her hand reached out ...
Chapter Twenty-One
“Nooooo!”
Rodin’s shout was too late.
Giselda shrieked as a bellow sounded from beside her.
“Guards! Seize them!”
There was the thundering sound of rushing footsteps, and then firm hands caught her arms in a brutal grip. She struggled and punched and kicked, but to no avail. “Rodin! Help!”
But Rodin was having problems of his own.
Commotion reigned. Pandemonium was everywhere. Objects that had been motionless came alive, and the silence that had almost freaked her out minutes before was banished by the terrible noise the denizens of the castle were making.
A horn blew, and silence descended upon the room. Not the eerie silence of the dead, but the humming silence of the living.
“Who are you who trespass upon my land?”
Giselda had been dragged by those hands to stand before a set of chairs that she now recognized as the thrones. Her eyes were drawn to the man seated beside Firelight’s perch. He wore a golden crown on his head. His clothes were of fine quality, though a bit out of the current fashion. He was also the one who had thrown the question at them.
She sneaked a peek at Rodin and saw that he was still trying to get the upper hand on his four captors. Though he was big and skilled in combat, it appeared that his opponents were just as skilled.
“Show some respect to our ki
ng!” A hand at her back shoved her roughly to her knees. Her arms were almost pulled out of their sockets at the abrupt movement.
Giselda let out a cry of pain.
“Watch it, you idiots!” Rodin had heard her cry. “If you hurt her ...”
The threat hung in the air.
The man on the throne laughed. The woman seated beside him on the other throne, as well as all the lords and ladies, knights and pages, also burst out into laughter.
One of the ladies near Giselda trilled, “How manly! I wish Gerald were like him.”
Her companion sighed. “Now if only Roland would also ...”
Giselda looked up from her position on the floor. She now knew where the power and authority in this castle was. It would not do to antagonize the king, so she brought all her princessly training to the fore. “I apologize for the disrespect, Your Majesty; it was not intentional. I would gladly stay on my knees to recompense for my unseemly behavior, but I fear that it would impede our discussion greatly, and I believe Your Majesty has some questions you wish answered?”
The king frowned. “You will stay on your knees, wench, while you answer my questions. You don’t seem to have trouble speaking.”
Darn. She should have included some coughing and gagging sounds. It was too late to do that now.
“Now, answer me: Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
She thought it prudent not to mention that she was a princess. “We are questers for the golden bird, and a fox led us here.”
“You think to steal what is mine?” The man roared as he half-rose from his seat.
The blood rushed from her face. She had not thought of it that way. Stealing?
“You shall be punished by death!”
Had she escaped poverty only to die here? In this no-man’s land? She didn’t even get to say goodbye to her family!
“No offense, Your Majesty, but I think that we were meant to get the bird, if my companion here had not touched the gilded cage by mistake.” The soft drawl pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked over to see that Rodin had stopped struggling and was kneeling quiescent a few feet away from her. Two knights held him by the arms while the other two pointed their swords at his neck. “The drawbridge was down and everyone was in an enchanted sleep. Only the bird was awake, yet she did not make a sound as I was handling her. We would have gotten away if my companion had not made a mistake. So I doubt that you can call it stealing.”
The king sat back in his seat and looked defeated. An atmosphere of gloom descended. He gestured wearily. “Unhand them.”
Once she was free, Giselda rushed over to Rodin, who hugged her tightly. He felt so warm and safe. Secure. His hands roved over her body, trying to find broken bones. “Are you all right? Where did they hurt you?”
Her eyes filled with tears at his concern. “I’m fine, Rodin. I’m so sorry ... sorry for this mess ... my fault ...”
His hand brushed a lock of hair away from her face. The action was gentle and affectionate. “What were you thinking?”
She tried to speak, but the words would not get out. She was so ashamed.
“It’s the gold, Giselda. Isn’t it?”
He knew her so well. She nodded imperceptibly, her head bowed.
His hands had settled to frame her head from behind, and now he nudged her chin up with his thumbs. When she looked at him, her heart quailed at the sadness she saw in his eyes. “These past few days, haven’t you learned yet that you can trust me to take care of you, Giselda? Haven’t you learned that gold is not everything? And even if you did bring gold with you, was there a place where we could have used it? The village, maybe, but anywhere else? And haven’t I taken care of you very well without gold these few days? Did you, even once, lack for food or shelter?” His voice was resigned, with the tiniest bit of anger.
She shook her head. His words made her feel so small and ... unworthy. Unworthy of him. A tear slipped from her eyes.
“Ah, hell, I’ve made you cry.” His thumb brushed away the tear that slid down her cheek.
And I know the sadness in your heart.
Because she was the one who had put it there.
“If you lovebirds are done, maybe we can get back to our discussion?” the king said drily.
Rodin took his time drying her tears, and then turned to face the monarchs of the castle. “The Castle of Light. In what land is it located, Your Majesty?”
The king opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He sighed, a weary look coming over his face. “I can’t tell you. I have been enchanted never to speak its name, until the spell is broken.”
“Why?” Giselda caught her slip. “I mean, why have you been enchanted, Your Majesty? And it seems, the whole castle, as well? The whole kingdom?”
The king sighed again, slouching on his throne. “I can’t speak of why I have been enchanted, and the whole castle with me. I only hope that my people are spared from this, that their lives have gone on despite this terrible tragedy that has befallen their king.”
This was frustrating. More questions and, she was sure, no answers. “How long have you been enchanted?”
“I have watched my daughter rise from the ashes three times.”
Giselda was confused. “Your daughter --?”
“My daughter ...”
Giselda followed the turn of his head. She gasped. “Firelight?”
“Yes.” The king covered his eyes, while the woman beside him, presumably his queen, caught her breath on a sob. “My beautiful daughter, Amber, princess of fire and light.”
“Fire and light ...” Giselda murmured as she turned her head to look at the phoenix, who stared back at her.
“This spell, how can it be broken?”
The king was amused. “You think to undertake another quest, young man? What does your lady think?”
“The lady thinks it is a worthwhile quest,” Giselda answered firmly, knowing Rodin’s stalwart and honorable heart. “Surely a princess deserves to be in her own natural form.”
The first genuine smile graced the king’s lips. “I thank you for your kind offer, then, but the spell would have been broken had you not touched the golden cage.” Giselda made a sound of dismay. “But since it was so, it is up to another to break the spell. As for you, you need to finish your own quest.”
“But our quest involves the golden bird, who is your daughter.”
“And so it does, so it does.” He seemed to be a sad king, for he sighed again before clapping his hands twice. A page entered the room. “Bring me the enchanted notebook.” The page bowed and left, returning a few minutes later with a small notebook, not larger than his thumb. But when the king opened it, it grew and enlarged to the size of his hand.
Giselda watched, wide-eyed. “My, how interesting.”
He flipped to the center of the book, muttering all the while. “Here it is. You are to bring me the Ring from the Castle of Dark before I can allow you to take my daughter.”
“What ring?”
“The Ring.”
“That’s it?” Giselda frowned. “Isn’t there usually a ... a title to go with it? Like, the Ring of Luck, the Ring of Good Fortune, or maybe the Ring of Beauty.”
The king scanned the next few pages. “No. Nothing.”
“Or any description? Is it gold or silver or bronze or what?” Her voice was tinged with a little bit of desperation. “Where can we find it? If the castle is as big as this one, it might take us forever.”
The king checked the book again. “Ah. Here in fine print, it says, ‘The quester shall know.’”
The quester shall know.
Despite the urgency of their situation, she was fascinated by the book’s seeming magical element. In fact, the whole castle was imbued with a sense of magic. She didn’t know if it was because the castle was under an enchantment or if it was really magical in the first place. Hence, she could not help asking, “What about the book? How come it can tell you what to do next?”
; “This book allows me to communicate with the one who had enchanted us.” The king added, “Please. Do not ask any more. I can’t tell you more.” His voice broke. “Just go, and I hope that by completing your quest, we may be one step closer to breaking our own enchantment.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Damn! I forgot to ask if he had seen Michael.”
They had walked out of the castle when the thought occurred to her. When she turned back, she saw that the drawbridge had been drawn up, and now it clanged shut against the portcullis.
It had been night when they entered the castle. But now, it was dawn. Though she thought they must have been inside the castle for an hour at the most, apparently it was not so.
Unless time had a different meaning within the forbidding structure that they had left behind.
“Your preoccupation with your prince is getting to be annoying.”
Piqued, Giselda rounded on Rodin. “I don’t understand your irritation -- no, your anger -- toward Michael. He has never done anything to make you this mad. No, I take that back. He has never done anything to you, period. If anyone has a case to make, it would be him --”
His face tightened, becoming stern. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Something that had occurred to her before struck her. “Unless ... You’re jealous? Is that it? You’re jealous of Michael?”
His jaw worked, but he didn’t open his mouth.
His silence spoke for itself.
Something like awe and a curious kind of joy rippled through her. “Even way back then, in Mithirien, you were jealous of Michael. You loved me even then.”