Spellbound: Book One (The Spell Series)

by Herndon, Brittney

  CHAPTER ONE

  She had done it a thousand times before. Sneaking into the old witch’s study had never been that difficult. Only the illumination of a small candle could be seen as a young woman crept down a dark deserted hallway, softly whispering to the ginger cat at her feet.

  “You’re gonna get caught one of these days, you know.”

  “I haven’t been caught yet, have I? Besides, we both know that once the old witch falls asleep there’s no waking her up.” The young woman’s words came out steady, but her companion knew the chilly night air was not the only reason why steady tremors were devouring her body.

  “And what will happen when she finds out that you’ve been sneaking into her study and using her spell books to learn magic?” came the cat’s reply.

  “It can’t be any worse than her keeping me here as a slave to attend to her every whim, can it? You know why I have to do this, Conner. If I don’t find a way to break the spell now I may never find a way.”

  The candle in her hand began to flicker and she cupped her hand around the small flame to shield it from the gentle draft coming in from an open window. The pair continued in silence for a few more paces before they arrived at an old wooden door. The young woman scanned the area to make sure they were not followed before pushing the door open, Conner at her heels. She closed the door behind her, the soft glow of the candle disappearing from the empty darkness of the hallway. The drafty passageway became still and lifeless as the darkness engulfed everything, eliminating any trace that someone had been there just seconds ago.

  Once inside Conner jumped onto the table on the far side of the room. He stretched and rolled onto his back, twisting and turning from side to side as if trying to reach an itch. The young woman put her candle down and walked over to an overstuffed bookcase.

  “You need to be more careful, Irene. You’re becoming far too reckless.” The cat’s eyes drifted to his companion who was obviously ignoring him. “Are you listening to me?”

  She came and sat down next to him with an old, dusty book in her hands.

  “I swear, Irene, I don’t know why you cast a spell to be able to talk to animals if you’re not going to listen to a word I say!” he playfully growled.

  “Conner, I’m busy.” She had tried to sound serious, but the small smile on her face gave her away. Conner jumped from the table and disappeared into the shadows.

  The room became silent again and Irene began to leaf through the crumply brown pages of the book she had retrieved moments before. Hours seem to pass before she leaned back and released a frustrated sigh.

  “Any luck?” Conner asked from a bookshelf behind her.

  “No.” She turned the page and slightly laughed. “Look, a spell that makes it rain.” However, Irene’s laughter died away as she stared blankly at the page before her. Clenching her fist into the white fabric of her nightgown, she tried to fight back the tears that were threatening to fall. Conner was at her side in an instant.

  “Don’t cry,” he pleaded, but it was too late. She could not hold back as hot tears that began to pour down her cheeks. She hid her face in her arms, resting her head against the cold surface of the table. Her face rose from its hiding spot as she felt a soft brush against her arm and a soft purr erupt.

  “What if I never find it, Conner? What if I’m trapped here forever? There are so many books. It would take a life time to go through them all.”

  Conner rolled onto his side and grabbed her hand with his paws. “Don’t worry, you’ll find it. Look at the bright side, no matter what happens, you’ll always have me to talk to.” Irene smiled, bringing her hand up to scratch behind his ears and Conner’s purr once again rose up from his chest. She released another sigh and turned her attention back to the task before her, but this time Conner stayed at her side.

  The night seemed endless and Irene lifted her eyes as the candle standing next to her began to flicker. She leaned forward to rub the sleep from her eyes.

  “You should call it a night,” Conner began, “it’s very late and the candle is about to burn out.”

  Irene stood, nodding her head as she returned the book she had been reading. She began to head for the door when a soft noise stopped her in her tracks. With her heart pounding, she grabbed the small wax candle sputtering next to her and blew it out. The wooden door slowly began to creak open as Irene dove underneath the table. Its small rectangular body barely able to offer her enough protection from sight and Irene prayed the darkness would aid her.

  A pair of brown shoes emerged in front of the table as the old witch closed the door behind her. Irene stopped breathing as the old woman slowly began to circle the room, the sound of her steps echoing in the stillness.

  “I know somebody is in here,” she viciously spat and Irene paled.

  The feet came to halt in front of the table and for a few seconds were motionless as the stench of rotting fish mixed with sweat filled Irene’s nose.

  One thought came to Irene’s mind as the witch began to crouch. Run! The young woman tensed, preparing herself to flee for her life when a loud screech burst through the air. Conner shot out of from his hiding place and landed on the old woman’s head, biting and scratching before he was forcibly thrown to the ground. The witch raced after Conner, a river of profanities streaming from her mouth as they disappeared.

  Releasing a shaky breath, Irene quickly ran to her room. She had no fear of running into the witch. She knew Conner would have led the old woman in the other direction, away from her familiar route. Perhaps her dear, furry friend had indeed been correct. She needed to be much more careful. A sincere smile appeared on her lips. She would have to thank him tomorrow.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Irene!” shouted a shrill voice as it broke through the peaceful morning air. The young woman bolted upright, nearly throwing a sleeping Conner off the bed. “Irene, you stupid girl! Where are you?” The voice boomed again and Irene was on her feet in an instant.

  “Conner, get up! I overslept.” She raced about her room, brushing her hair and tugging off her nightgown. She pulled her gray faded dress from a drawer and her apron hanging from a small peg on the wall. Within seconds she was dressed, running through the kitchen heading for the back door that led outside. She burst outside into the open field and stopped in her tracks. Irene didn’t have time to react before she felt a shattering pain rock through her face and she feel over onto her knees clutching her eye.

  “Where have you been? You should have been out here hours ago.” Irene turned her head upward and was greeted by the sight of Sora standing over her, a stick perched in her grasp. The old hag’s wild hair and wrinkled, yellow skin were shaking with anger as rotting teeth peeked through her snarled lips.

  “I’m sorry, Lady Sora,” Irene hissed through gritted teeth, but the apology fell on deaf ears and Sora reared back again, this time striking Irene in the back of her head.

  “You worthless child, I don’t know why I keep you around. I should just put you out of your misery and then I’d been done with you. Get to your chores.” Sora demanded before disappearing into the cabin.

  Irene sat in the dirt clutching her head, her body shaking from not only pain, but rage. When the throbbing had finally subsided she carefully stood and stomped to the hen house. Taking a quick glance toward the direction of the kitchen window, Irene ducked behind the chicken coup where the witch’s prying eyes could not reach. Conner was waiting.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. Irene brought her hand up to wipe away the hot liquid that was running down her face and neck. She looked down to see a red substance mixing into her dark blonde hair and the fire fueling her rage blazed a
gain. How she hated that woman.

  “Is it bleeding badly?” she asked and Conner swiveled his tail.

  “It’s not that bad. I swear, one day Irene I’m going give that witch what she’s asking for!” He hissed, extending his claws to emphasize his point.

  “Don’t you do anything, if she would do this to me who knows what she’d do to you.” She grabbed the basket sitting at her feet and entered the hen house, Conner remaining outside. The hens tended not to take too kindly to him snooping around.

  The day passed by slowly. Early afternoon had already come and gone by the time Irene had started cleaning the old stone fireplace in the kitchen that was covered in black ash. She angrily pulled a rag from her pocket and set to work scrubbing at the grubby black substance.

  She was nearly finished when Conner came racing into the room. He leapt onto the now clean stone causing Irene to jump, her head nearly hitting the black cauldron that was hanging in the heart of the fireplace.

  “Irene, someone is coming!” Conner exclaimed.

  “What do you mean someone is coming?” Irene was now facing Conner, her eyes glued to his small form.

  “Down the old dirt path that emerges from the woods two travelers just appeared and they’re heading this way.” He could hardly contain his excitement.

  Irene nervously whipped her hands on her apron. No one ever came to visit the old witch.

  “Maybe you were mistaken. No one ever comes here. Perhaps they’re just passing through.” She said it more to calm her own nerves than Conner’s. However, she was proven wrong when a loud knock sounded through the house. Conner was already in the hallway heading for the front door.

  “Conner, get back here.” Irene whispered. She scooped him up and held him against her chest not knowing whether to answer the door or go inform Sora of the two visitor’s arrival. Unfortunately, the knocking continued each pound more aggressive than the last.

  “You better answer it before they knock the door down,” Conner declared.

  She gently set him and in one swift motion threw the door open as a fist nearly collided with her face.

  “Oh, excuse me miss.” The man said while retracting his hand. “We need to see the witch, Sora.”

  “Get out of the way you little insect.” Sora hissed and Irene had to regain her footing as she was violently pushed to the side. “Please excuse my dim-witted servant girl, come in Prince Alec, Sir Alden.” She stepped aside trying to bow gracefully, but her old withered body would not allow it and she awkwardly stumbled. Irene hid behind the door tying to stifle her laughter.

  “Go into the kitchen and prepare three glasses of ale,” Sora barked.

  Irene carefully placed three empty mugs on the table and turned to retrieve a jug of ale from the back storage room. When she returned Sora and their guests where already seated at the table. Irene poured the ale and then retreated into a dark corner as her eyes excitedly roamed the room. Now was her chance to finally observe the two newcomers.

  Both were nobility, that was obvious from the pictures she had seen in books. Their luxurious clothing and metallic armor were not normal characteristics of people from the lower class, or at least, that’s what she had been told. The gentleman Sora was currently engaged in a conversation with was much older than his counterpart, his beard long and course with sprinkles of silver throughout his midnight hair. He had a kind face and soft eyes that twinkled when he smiled.

  Her eyes shifted to study the young man at his side. He was tall with dark brown hair that looked like it had not seen a comb in weeks. His posture was much more tense and serious than the older man to his left and his eyes wildly shifted as if he was expecting someone to burst through the door at any minute.

  His eyes found Irene’s and she dropped her gaze to the floor. She could feel her face becoming hot as she tried to push the embarrassing moment to the back of her mind and instead focus all her attention on Sora’s conversation.

  “Sir Alden, what is the reason for your most welcomed visit today?”

  “It seems great misfortune has befallen the king and he has fallen gravely ill. The castle’s healers have not been able to cure his ailment. His son, Prince Alec, and I have been traveling the kingdom trying to find those who have healing abilities and naturally I assumed, since you are a witch, that you may be able to assist us,” Alden explained, Sora leaning forward while bringing her hand up to try and tidy her hair.

  “Sir Alden, I am most honored.” Sora batted her eye lashes. “I will set to work as soon as possible on a curing potion. It should be ready in seven days, return then and I’ll give it to you.”

  Sir Alden stood. “Seven days? Why so long?”

  “You must understand I need time to gather the needed ingredients.”

  “Seven days then, thank you Lady Sora. One more favor to ask of you? Our horses are quite parched. We would greatly appreciate if they could have some water before we set off again.”

  “Of course,” she said while impatiently waving a hand toward the young woman standing behind her. “Irene, go and retrieve some water for their horses.”

  She fled the room, grabbing the bucket at her feet and starting down the hill to the gentle stream that lay at the bottom.

  “That was interesting,” Conner began as he trotted along beside her. “Irene, why are you so red?” She didn’t answer. Conner, forgetting the unimportant detail, continued with his previous statement. “Why would they come to Sora for a cure? They must be really desperate. She’s the most untrustworthy witch in these parts. Who knows what she’d give them.”

  They reached the stream and she knelt down to dip the brass bucket into its cool flowing waters and caught a glimpse of her face. She stared at her reflection with frustration. Her eye was swollen from earlier that day and she was completely covered in suet. Angrily diving her hands into the water, Irene set to work scrubbing her skin clean and then wiping it with her apron.

  Her mind drifted to other thoughts as she sat on the edge of the water’s bank, staring into the forest just beyond. She stepped into the water and she began to feel the familiar tug at her chest.

  “Irene, stop!”

  She heard Conner’s frantic voice, but ignored it. Taking another step her breathing became erratic and shallow. Her lungs slowly began to stop. If only she could make it to the other side. She collapsed on her hands and knees, crawling back to the bank. Conner sat at her side not sure what to say.

  Irene’s eyes shot open when she felt a hand grip the back of her head and force her up into a sitting position. She had expected to see the cold black eyes of Sora, but instead she met the dark brown eyes of Prince Alec.

  “Are you all right?” he asked. She pushed him away and retrieved the bucket.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” She awkwardly began to travel back up the hill gripping the handle of the bucket so hard her knuckles began to turn white. The water violently splashed as she struggled to carry her cargo up the steep hill. Prince Alec shot a hand out and grasped the bucket trying to take it from her, but her grip did not loosen.

  “Let me get that,” he offered.

  “No, thank you.” She pried the handle from his hands and once again began the trek back to Sora’s cabin.

  “You’re not going to get far,” he said from behind and Irene gritted her teeth as she pressed onward.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she huffed. “If Sora sees you carrying this bucket, she’ll have my head.” She lifted her foot to take another step and nearly stumbled at the unexpected question he asked next.

  “Is that what happened to your eye?” Irene remained silent. “How about I carry it just until we get to the top of hill and then I’ll give it back? Since they were still inside when I left, Sora should not see us.”

  Irene turned around to blow a lose hair from out of her face. She glanced at Conner who meowed as if he was agreeing with the young prince. She slouched in defeat, nodded her head and he took the bucket from her hands.

 
He kept his word and returned the bucket once they had reached their destination and Irene inched closer toward the two horses tied up by entrance. Circling their muscular bodies, she stopped at their heads and set the water down. The horses greedily drank as Irene reached a hand out to gently pat their heads. The black horse to her left snorted as green blades of grass fell from his mouth.

  “This human female is awful scrawny, isn’t she?” said the black stag.

  “She could use some fatting up,” replied the other.

  Irene leaned in closer, stealing a quick glance toward Prince Alec to make sure he was not looking. “I heard that,” her eyebrow quirked in annoyance. The two horses reared back clearly shocked.

  “You can understand us?” she nodded. Prince Alec grabbed their bridles, holding them in place.

  “Whoa! Calm down, Beau” The horses relaxed, but did not take their eyes from Irene. “Sorry, I guess they’re a little on edge. We’ve been traveling for days and I guess they’re itching to get going.”

  Irene gently scratched behind the stag’s ear. “It must be nice to be so free, to come and go as you please.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly say I was free. Is anyone really?” Prince Alec asked.

  “Some are freer than others.” She softly said and he opened his mouth to reply, but halted as Sora and Sir Alden emerged from the house. They were exchanging quiet whispers, but fell silent when they noticed Irene and Alec standing only a few feet away. Sir Alden plastered a wide grin on his face, Irene stepping aside as he approached.

  The two men mounted their horses and with one last nod from Sir Alden, they set off. Irene watched Prince Alec’s retreating form until he had vanished inside the dense tree line. She longed to go with them, to climb upon a horse and run away, to go wherever her heart desired. All too soon, Sora’s voice broke through Irene’s peaceful daydream.

  “Get back to work, girl. There are still plenty of chores to be finished!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  It was early morning. The sun had barely peaked over the horizon when Sora summoned Irene into her study. She now stood outside of the room nervously fidgeting, worrying if the old hag had discovered her frequent mid-night trips to her private study. Irene bit her lip and brought her hand up to softly rasp on the familiar wooden door.