Wicked As You Wish

by Rin Chupeco

  “Our swords are yours.” The words echoed from knight to knight. The light from the torches flickered against Alex’s face, his expression revealing little. The firebird inclined its head formally, acknowledging the strange pledge.

  “Thank you, milord,” the prince said formally. “It’s a long way to Maidenkeep, and we’ll be needing all the help you can provide us.” He turned toward some of the knights, many of whom didn’t bother to hide their gawking.

  “It’s a miracle,” one of them muttered, then launched into an unfamiliar language Tala presumed was Avalonian, while gesticulating at Alex. “Creverun duodeci annorum,” he said, “per singol annos.”

  Murmurs of assent swept through the group, falling silent at a sharp command from the count.

  “He grew twelve years in a single one,” West whispered, translating for them.

  “My apologies, Your Highness. You were only a young boy of five when we saw you last. You take strongly after Her Highness Marya, the queen.”

  “I’m sorry?” Alex asked. “It’s only been a year for you?”

  “So none of you outside the barrier were aware of this? The frost was not the only spell to hit Avalon, Your Highness. My mother said that for every month we spent here, a full year would have passed for the rest of the world. When you thought us lost for twelve long years, we had endured for only one.”

  16

  In Which the Castle Wants Tala to Be Its Guest

  They had entered the castle none too soon; the sudden deluge of hailstones and the rumbling thunder rang in their ears as the storm hit, sending scattered chunks of solid ice railing against the windows, the panes rattling with their fury.

  Torches cast flickering shadows as they entered the main hall, the walls made of the same black basalt as the rest of the fortress. There was something peculiarly Spartan about the castle, giving the impression it was built for military purposes more than anything else. The furniture was aged and scratched, a confusing jumble of long tables and wooden benches. The only splashes of ornamentation were a few tapestry scenes—mostly depictions of battles—covering the stone walls, hiding behind curtains faded and dusty from years of neglect.

  The pièce de résistance was obviously the large skull that graced the walls of the main hall, displayed proudly for everyone to see. Its jaw hung open, large enough to swallow a grown man whole, and bony wings extended on either side.

  “Goddamn,” Ken said, staring. “That’s one hell of a way to welcome someone into a castle.”

  “Dragon, maybe?” Zoe guessed. “Not all their bones find their way into museums.”

  Some of the knights eyed her warily, and Tala thought she knew why. The torches that littered the walls inside the Count of Tintagel’s castle were obviously made of some kind of ancient spelltech, and every one of them flickered out when Tala passed by, only to glow back to life once she was some distance away. Despite their lord’s geniality, his men’s faces were dark and grim, their eyes lingering on the firebird at Alex’s shoulder with the same unease they did Tala. If Alex shared her worries, he didn’t look it; he walked like he was born for these walls, head raised and chin jutted out proudly as if he weren’t the exiled ruler of a forgotten nation. She briefly caught his eye, and he managed a small smile.

  “Later,” he murmured.

  West conversed quietly with his uncle, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands as he explained their situation, with Zoe quietly filling in details the boy neglected to mention. At one point, the count gave a sudden bark of laughter. “You must have found my mother’s gingerbread cottage. She was a fairly well known witch once, before she married my father. T’would explain how you found yourself within our boundaries. I’m surprised to find the mirror still works.”

  “She doesn’t eat children or anything, does she?” Tala muttered, not really intending to be overheard, but Zoe was a few feet away and grinned.

  “Don’t believe all the tales you’ve read. Not all witches are bad. Although I’m not really sure I’m a big believer in divination. Sounds a little like pseudoastrology to me.”

  “That’s so typical of a Taurus to say, Zo,” Ken scoffed. “You think the Snow Queen’s responsible for prolonging time here?”

  “Maybe, but I’m not sure how that would serve her.”

  Ken and Loki were looking around. Cole appeared impatient, glaring at the main doors like they affronted him in some way.

  A few servants approached, offering bowls of clean water and rough washcloths. Tala stared at hers in confusion, until Zoe dipped her fingers into the nearest bowl, washing off the dirt and soot of the day’s journey from her hands, and Tala quickly followed suit. It felt like she’d taken a step into the pages of a history book; there were no modern conveniences as far as she could determine, and she was briefly worried that their host preferred all feudal magic over recent technology, favoring chamber pots and outhouses instead of a good working toilet.

  “So, that’s what the knights were doing, weren’t they?” Ken asked suddenly, his eyes widening in belated understanding. “They were checking our eyes to see if we were one of the Deathless.”

  “After what happened to the students in Invierno, I’m glad they’re choosing to be careful,” Zoe said, voice grim. “I’m sure there’s quite a few of them still wandering Avalon. The ice maidens have been busy.”

  “Why do they keep looking at me like that?” Tala muttered.

  “The Makilings are one of Avalon’s more renowned allies, and from the way you’ve been disrupting their enchantments, I think they’ve guessed who you are.”

  “And they know…about my father?”

  Zoe paused. “Do you know your uncle’s opinion on that, West?”

  The boy shrugged. “My uncle, like most of my family, is loyal to the Avalon king first and foremost.”

  “Can your uncle be trusted to keep his silence, then?”

  “My uncle follows the old ways and the old loyalties. They’re a weird family, even by our standards. He won’t say anything. The Tintagels like firebirds. Even dragons, when others hated them. My family are fans of old bespelled magic, but my uncle takes it to extremes. It’s why they left Maidenkeep and built a castle here.”

  “There is a legend in Avalon,” Count Tintagel replied from behind them, “that the dragons are hiding, rather than extinct. In time, when the world requires them most, they might forgive us and ride again, with a new kinder king to lead them. But come along; it’s been a long time since we’ve entertained visitors, and the Dame’s often pleased when she can see her predictions come true for herself—or as much as she can, given Lady Makiling’s presence.”

  “Told you,” West mumbled to Ken.

  “So young, and already brave fighters.” The man chuckled as he led the way into a large hall, where a roaring fireplace blazed with warmth. Stony-faced portraits stared out from every wall, many of whom closely resembled the count. He paused before one of the portraits, a beautiful woman with flaxen hair.

  “My wife.” He sighed. “Gone all these years. My own son, Frederick, is out patrolling the borders with the rest of my guards, and shall not return for another two weeks. I would offer my services to the Cheshire’s army myself, but my hands tremble too much now to hold a sword. We have barely enough knights to protect my lands as it is. When the frost came, it took everything we had to hold our own defenses. We could do little but wring our hands as we watched the ice take over the rest of the land, with only enough of our own enchantments to keep the castle from following suit.”

  “You give us much hope, milord,” Zoe said formally. “There’s a chance that there might still be pockets of resistance throughout Avalon like yours, however sparse and small. We intend to make our way to Maidenkeep. The ice started there, so maybe a way to end the curse lies within its walls. If not, then Lyonesse itself has all the best spelltech, even by today’s standards. T
here should be something there we can use to contact the outside world. It’s a long shot, but it’s our best bet.”

  “The Nine Maidens,” Tala said, before she could stop herself.

  “Oh, so you know about that too?”

  “Not much.” Tala snuck a glance at Alex, but he said nothing.

  Ken scrunched up his nose. “Us neither. We’ll figure it out at Maidenkeep, I guess.”

  “The Nine Maidens are a mystery, even to us. Avalonian kings have said very little of it. All I know is that it is one of Avalon’s three most powerful segen, all tied to the royal bloodline. The firebird is the second, and the Nameless Sword is the third. The last is an unusual spell, while still bound to the rulers of Avalon, the sword allows one not of their lineage to take it up in their stead. I would have liked to see it in my lifetime.” The older man smiled wistfully. “We live in exciting times. My one regret is that this is happening in my old age rather than in the prime of my youth when I might have been of greater use. Months trapped in this accursed ice is a poor way to spend the approaching twilight of one’s years.”

  “Do you have an idea of where the Nameless Sword might be, milord?” Alex asked, his eyes intent.

  “No, unfortunately. Given its unpredictability, my men and I have no idea where to begin our search.”

  “And you have no idea who cast this time-lapse spell?”

  “Not even my mother knows, I’m afraid. Whoever it is, I am grateful for small favors.” The count gestured toward the large staircase. “Have your pick of rooms; there’s more than enough for all. Might I not convince you to stay a few more days?”

  “Have you tried to establish contact with anyone outside of Avalon, Sir Hiram?” Zoe asked.

  “None past my own gates, much less past the accursed barrier. My castle is still some ways from Maidenkeep, but we have always been self-sufficient.”

  “A looking glass? Or a messenger pigeon? A phone?”

  The count shook his head.

  “Then we’ll keep traveling after the storm passes. We can’t sit around and wait for the Cheshire to find us. I definitely don’t want to spend any longer here than we have to.”

  “Spoken like a true warrior,” the count said, smiling. “We’ll have horses saddled and ready for you in the morning. There are no roads here, and the paths are narrow heading out, so cars aren’t the best mode of transportation until you hit the farmlands. I can spare some of my men to accompany you at least part of the way.”

  Zoe shook her head. “We are grateful, milord, but I think we can avoid detection better if there are fewer of us moving around. I presume some of the Snow Queen’s minions still walk the lands?”

  “Yes. Ice wolves and even an ogre, occasionally. Every now and then, we find a group of Deathless, no doubt unfortunate victims from nearby villages, but we let them be, as we can do little for them. Surely you cannot think that I would leave His Highness unprotected? Nightwalkers aside, some few groups of bandits do plague the areas closest to Lyonesse.”

  “It’s His Highness’s decision that you do not,” Alex said firmly. “The Cheshire sent the Bandersnatches to aid me for good reason. They will be more than enough to protect me from what the Snow Queen has waiting. And I have the firebird, the one thing the Snow Queen fears. It will be a more than ample weapon.”

  The count nodded, grudging respect in his voice. “You remind me a lot of your father, Your Highness, and your mother even more. You have their courage. I wish they were here today.”

  The smile on Alex’s face wavered briefly, before holding strong. “You are too kind, milord.”

  “Take as much rest as you need, at least. Proper introductions can wait until you’ve all enjoyed a good bath. My cook will have supper ready in an hour.”

  Some effort had been made to make the upper rooms of Tintagel Castle opulent. Large paintings, heavy chintz, and other delicate evidences of wealth framed the walls. The rooms were only slightly musty from lack of use, and contrary to what the count had claimed, the beds were well turned and clean, the floors carefully swept. In Tala’s spacious room, a smaller door led into an adjoining room where a simple wooden tub stood, hot with steaming water, much to Tala’s relief. Hours spent hiking down rough, frozen trails was not something she was accustomed to, and her whole body ached.

  “You sure you’re okay?” Alex muttered. The count had assigned them rooms adjacent to one another, and Tala was relieved he would be close by.

  “This is the weirdest day I’ve ever had.”

  He laughed. “You said you wanted to leave Invierno. Be careful what you wish for.”

  “Aren’t you afraid, though? I mean, one minute we’re in Invierno, where practically nothing of note ever happens, and then the next we’re in a castle no one’s visited in more than a decade, trying to find a way to break a Snow Queen’s curse.”

  “You forget,” Alex said quietly, “that I’ve been shunted around far longer than you, longer than I’ve lived in Invierno. I’m used to being afraid for most of my life, wondering if some assassin was going to find me regardless of where I hide. But this—I’m finally here, Tala. I’m finally in Avalon where I’m supposed to be, even when it’s full of frost and winter with the Snow Queen’s mark in every corner. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I can see an end. It’s better than running away.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think of it like that.” While she’d been at Invierno complaining about boredom, Alex had been running for his life since he was six years old.

  He grinned at her. “Well, you’re getting what you wanted. This is about as adventurous as anyone can make it.” His smile faded. “You know, you could stay with the count if you want, while the rest of us go. You didn’t sign up for any of this.”

  “If you think I’m going to sit quietly by,” Tala was quick to flare up, “then you don’t know me at all.”

  He laughed. “I knew you were gonna say that, but I wanted to check. I’ll see you downstairs.”

  He disappeared into his room, but Tala remained where she was for a few minutes, staring at his door with a frown. “I don’t know what I want, though,” she whispered into the near-darkness. “Not at all.”

  Clothes had already been laid out on Tala’s bed—a heavy woolen cloak, a comfortable-looking linen shirt, dark wool pants, thick gloves, and even riding boots—all perfect for braving the raging winter outside. A quick look inside the bathroom showed her that the plumbing was modern instead of medieval, which was something to be thankful for. Tala wasted no time disrobing; a few minutes later and she was sinking happily into the water with a long sigh of contentment, leaning her head back against the curve of the tub and relishing the heat.

  Something nudged at the back of her neck. Tala reached behind her without thinking, fingers coming into contact with something soft and blocky—a bar of soap. She submerged it in water, then began the meticulous task of scrubbing briskly at her arms and face. The rough soap felt coarse and chafed slightly, but still felt good against her skin. She ducked her head underneath the water, washing the traces of suds off.

  Something draped itself over the crook of her arm. It was a large towel, white and smelling faintly of mint.

  “Thanks,” Tala mumbled, and wiped her face, then stopped and opened her eyes.

  She was certain there had been no towel in sight…nor had there been any soap around, for that matter, when she had entered the tub.

  A small tray containing bottles of bath salts lifted itself off a table several feet away. It drifted to the tub where Tala sat and hung at a spot over her head, maintaining a respectful distance.

  “Uh,” she began. “I’m assuming you’re part of the castle enchantments the count talked about.”

  The tray dipped up and down in confirmation. It lifted a bottle in an almost questioning manner.

  Tala reached for it; the invisible serva
nt was barely staying within arm’s reach.

  “Oh. You’re afraid I might negate your magic if you get too close.”

  The tray bobbed again.

  “Sorry.”

  The tray responded again, this time with a slow, circular motion that Tala assumed was supposed to be reassuring.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, feeling ridiculous.

  A sudden glint of light made her turn, and Tala found herself staring at a full-length mirror, an even more ornate affair than the one she’d seen at the sanctuary. Seeing her naked reflection made her feel a little self-conscious, so she turned away.

  The mirror glinted again.

  Puzzled, Tala looked back.

  But it wasn’t her reflection that stared back at her. The mirror looked out into a strange garden, a confusing mass of green foliage and thick undergrowth, which made no sense given Avalon’s current state. Large trees huddled above, forming a canvas where sunlight seeped through gaps among the leaves and branches. The light shone upon a clearing where a large stone stood, perhaps two or three feet in height.

  Unusual as it was, what was even stranger was the large sword buried almost to the hilt in the center of the heavy boulder.

  This wasn’t normal. She should probably call for help. But her feet moved despite herself, and Tala approached the mirror. The urge to step through the reflection, the urge to step into that riot of forest, toward the embedded stone, was almost a yearning. The sword was calling out to her. It was singing to her, in a melody only she could hear, that only she understood.

  Touch it, something urged her. Just one touch.

  Tala was never sure what had saved her life. Perhaps it was instinct or some reflex that told her she was in danger, disrupting the siren’s call just as she was putting her foot through the mirror. But the Makiling curse did its work, and some instinct made her leap back.