"What are you?" Her tongue tingled and her fingers developed a creepy crawling sensation. She wiped her hands hurriedly and spit several times. "Charmot." Added to a brew, it would amplify the effects. On it's own, it plucked the nerves and made the skin crawl.
So she had Morpheus's beard and Charmot. It would make one hell of a knockout gas, but it needed to be mixed and heated. The cloth could be used to put a fuse on it, if she could get a heat source. Going back to the door, she hung one hand out the small window.
"Hello," she called. With some clanking, the guard moved down toward her. "I'm terribly cold. Could I perhaps get a heat rock?"
"A heat rock?" he asked. Cedric appeared at his door to watch the exchange.
"Yes, one of those fabulous rocks that create heat. I haven't much on and no shoes and I'm freezing. You wouldn't want me to die before the Chancellor has his chance to execute me, would you?" The words came out glib, but Emma felt a trace of fear at the idea of being executed. Best to insure that didn't happen.
The guard came close enough to look inside her cell. Emma moved back from the door so he could see her more clearly. He knocked his head from one side to the other, then shrugged before going away. Rushing back to the door, Emma watched him as long as she was able. He moved out of sight and Emma stayed at the door.
She met Cedric's eyes and smiled. He didn't smile back.
Every moment Emmaline waited for the guard to come back she spent on pins and needles. Would he come back with a rock or wouldn't he? The question tore at her because her entire plan hinged upon it. She strained her ears to hear any movement and imagined she heard mice moving in the walls. More likely rats, but either way not a pleasant thought. After what seemed like an eternity, she heard footsteps returning. She slipped away from the door to her cell and waited. A man's face appeared in the tiny window and his eyes searched for her. She made herself visible.
"You called for heat," he said.
"Yes, if you would be so kind." She even added a little curtsy on to the end. Heavy rattling outside the door preceded it opening. She carefully stayed close to the center of the room just out of reach of the light. The guard put a small pot on the floor and nudged it in with his foot. Inside the pot were several small crystals, barely bigger than beads, but they gave off a delicious warmth Emma craved. She dropped down next to it and hugged it as close as she dared, luxuriating in heat that struck to her bones. While she enjoyed her heat, the door shut and the keys rattled it locked again. No matter, she thought. You'll open the door again when I'm ready. She lugged the pot across the room to a far corner away from the charmot and the door. There, she set about her plan. Feeling around on the floor, she tried to find a loose stone. She only needed a small one, just enough to act as a scrape and a mortar. The piece that came up under her fingers was too large for what she really wanted, but she would make do. First she gathered some of the Morpheus's beard from the wall by dragging the rock across it, pausing to listen every few seconds in case someone should start paying attention to what she did. No need to give the game away too quickly. Or get herself hanged all the quicker. With the moss collected, she covered her hands with the edge of her nightshirt and went to get the charmot. She grabbed enough of the loose powder to give someone a deep sneeze and scurried across the room with it. Dumping it into a hollow made out of a piece of cloth she found, she put the moss on top of it and began to beat the two together. It left behind a flammable paste. At least she hoped it would be flammable seeing how she hadn't had time to properly dry the moss before adding it to the recipe. Too late to worry about that now. She needed to get a move on before someone remembered they were down there and decided to see about them. One guard would be hard enough, more than one might be impossible.
Knotting up the clothe, she inserted one of the small crystals into the knot. It would burn through quick enough, so she needed to hurry. The rest she dropped in the rest of the cloth and hay left on the floor. The hay, despite the general damp, caught like a champ and started to smoke.
"Fire!" Emma ran to the door with her package in hand and yelled. Then she slipped into the corner behind the door. The guard, seeing the flames, hurried to undo the lock. Emma huddled in her hiding spot as the flames licked the walls and ceiling.
"Damnable fool woman," the guard said as he swung the door open. Seeing he couldn't do much about the fire without some sort of water, he turned back. Emma thrust the now smoking packet into his face. He took a step back and reached for his sword with a cry, but the smell took effect. He stumbled backward and then crumbled to his knees. Emma dropped the pack next to his head and stomped it out. The smoke remained as a haze hanging just above the floor. Urgently, she checked the guard for keys. Nothing. They hung from the lock. Emma grabbed them and went to Cedric's cell.
Her companion looked at her and then strained to see past her to see what was going on.
"We've got to get out of here," Emma said.
"I agree."
She fumbled with the keys trying to find the right one. The first three didn't fit and the smoke boiled out of the room into the hall. The scent of the smoke changed as it caught the Morpheus's beard still attached to the wall. Before too long, it would reach the charmot and the mixture would affect the whole castle. They needed to be gone before that. One of the keys fit and she yanked Cedric's cell door open. His eyes had fallen to lidded and he breathed slowly.
"Don't breath too much of this in," she said, covering her own mouth and nose with one sleeve. "It'll put you to sleep."
Cedric followed her lead. Then the pair hurried down the corridor away from the fire. Just as they reached the staircase upward, they heard shouts above them. They ducked into an alcove at the bottom of the stairs just in time for two other guardsmen to come rushing down. They coughed and hacked in the smoke and Emma led Cedric up the stairs. At the top, she looked first one way then another, her eyes burning from the smoke. With a cough, she motioned Cedric to pick a direction. He took the east hallway at a clip. Emma ran after him. The air smelled sweeter the further they got from the fire, but they wouldn't enjoy freedom long if they didn't get out of the castle. Cedric must have known that because the next thing she knew, they were in a courtyard. Several people milled about. Without stopping to consult, Cedric struck out for the gate. Emma did her best not to wince too often at the sore treatment of her feet.
"Just like summer at Papa's," she said to herself after stepping on a small stone. She took full deep breathes of the clear air and kept Cedric's shirt in sight. The pair merged with the others who were leaving the castle and soon they were lost in a small crowd. Fortuitous since riders from the castle rode by not long after. Emma ducked her head and did the best she could not to look out of place.
The group they were with passed time by singing songs Emma knew none of the words to, but she found it comforting just the same since they hadn't turned them into the riders. She could imagine what would happen now that she had set the castle on fire. Punishment would be swift. All the more reason to avoid it. She and Cedric stayed within sight distance, but didn't travel together. It suited Emma fine. She had problems enough without worrying over whether or not he was okay. A little heartless maybe, but she was working on his problem: curing the King. She could almost feel the ingredient list under her fingertips, except she couldn't call them out. The relative of wonderroot was probably Urcen, which oddly enough resembled a potato before it was cut up and boiled in the recipes. Lamia's hair, which made it purple. Reminded of it, perhaps one of the ingredients was Charmot. That still left the liquid used. If only she had access to Mr. Amon, he would certainly know what it was without having to look. Caught up in her own troubles, she hardly noticed when the group began to disband. However, when she realized she was without any kind of human shelter from discovery, she looked around.
They were in a village. A circle of houses looked in on what could be called a market square. The others in the group had dispersed in various houses. The lower half of ea
ch house was made of stone, but the thatch looked like the straw Emma had set alight. Cedric stood in the center of the road looking at the houses as well.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Hammerford, the closest village to the castle," Cedric said. "I've traded here a time or two."
"Do you know where we might find a weed called Lamia's hair?"
"No."
He ushered her out of the road as a cart attempted to pass. Waving to the driver, he said,
"Maybe someone here in town knows where to find it."
The market square stood empty. The depressions of its stalls were thick and deep. Cedric rushed her through to the other side. Up the road, another rider appeared. Ducking behind a building, they crouched to get out of sight.
"How are we going to ask them if we have to keep hiding?"
"Once we're inside a house, we should be fine," Cedric said, his mouth quirking into a smile. "I'm certain we'll be just fine."
His optimism did nothing for her. The rider passed them a few minutes later. Emma stretched as best she could when she stood.
"Come on," Cedric said. They went to the first house off the square. It looked no more ornate or out of place than any of the others. As good a place as any to start. Knocking on the door, Cedric leaned in. The door opened a crack.
"May we come in, we are poor travelers seeking aid." The door shut with a definitive snap.
"We'll try somewhere else," Cedric whispered. Three houses closed their doors to them before one stood open. A jovial man, thin and long limbed, stood in the doorway.
"Come in, come in. Succor you may have."
"Thank you, kind sir," Cedric said as he bowed to Emma to precede him. Standing inside the hut, it appeared a wonder how the tall man fit inside. His head seemed to be rubbing the thatch. "As I said, we are in need of aid."
"And how may I aid you?"
"Do you have any clothing you might be able to part with?" Emma asked. "I have so little."
The man, older than them both, looked at her appraisingly.
"Indeed you have little. I have a pair of breeches and a few shirts you might try. They'll hang long on you, but it'll be more than you have." He went to the far side of the hut and rummaged through what looked like a rag pile. He came up with a pair of breeches and two shirts which looked as though they may have shrunk at one time. They certainly no longer fit him. Emma took the clothes and put the breeches on first before fitting the shirt over what she had on. Layering made it warmer and warmth she needed.
"If that's all I can do for you, I consider it a great service," the man said.
Cedric said, "Perhaps one more thing. Do you know where to find the weed, Lamia's hair?"
"Lamia's hair?" he asked. "I've never heard of such a thing and I've seen more turns of time than you have."
"It's a weed flower with long purple petals. It grows in wet places."
"Sounds like something the cows would eat and call mighty fine."
"Yes, but it's important."
"Perhaps you should see old Matilda up on the lake. She knows where to find all the things that are growing and important, if you catch my meaning."
"Up on the lake?" Emma asked.
"Yes, there's a lake along the river some miles away. Matilda lives there. Prefers her peace and quiet she does, but she'll help if there's trouble."
"What is your name, sir?" Cedric asked.
"You can call me Father William, all my children do."
"Well, Father William, thank you very much for your aid."
"Good souls deserve it and I like to think all souls are good."
"May it be so."
Emma cinched the shirt tight around her waist.
"I'm ready to go if you are." Then she started walking. With color in her cheeks, she asked, "Do you perhaps have any shoes I could wear?"
"I doubt anything that would fit my feet would do for such as yours, miss."
"Well, thank you anyway."
"Yes, thank you and we'll remember you to Matilda when we see her."
"Tell her I still thank her for curing the cough of my eldest daughter. She's married now and a mother of her own. In fact, my daughter's daughter is expecting now."
"Of course," Cedric said. Emma nodded with a smile. They left Father William's house and struck out along a side road. They came to the river soon after.
"If we stay near the river, we can't miss the lake," Emma said. Cedric agreed. They followed the river into the forest.
A cool orange sunset found them on the edge of the lake. Nearby they could see a cottage with white puffs of smoke issuing from it. Emma's sore feet kept her from running toward it in a fit of joy. As it was, she winced and eased her way toward it through the mud. When they reached it, she knocked on the door. From inside,
"Stand on no ceremony. Come in and tell me your plight."
Emma opened the door on a tidy scene. Drying herbs hung from the rafters in bunches. A wooden bed lay covered in blankets. A woman, ample and aging, stood over a pot hung on a well-stoked fire. Cedric entered behind Emma and shut the door.
"Miss Matilda."
"No Miss necessary, just Matilda. And to my ear you sound foreign, from where do you hail?"
"A long way from here."
"Then the price of dinner is the tale of your journey and don't leave anything out or there'll be no dessert." Matilda waved them to places near the fire and continued stirring.
If she found any of Emma's story strange, she said nothing about it while she served a thin soup full of vegetables to the pair. Then for dessert there were apples warmed near the fire. Once, the tale, including the harrowing escape from the castle and the meeting with Father William, was told, she turned to Cedric and said,
"Shame on you for bringing a child out of her home without explaining the dangers."
"Our need was and is dire," Cedric said. "And she came of her own free will."
"I did. I guess, I should have counted the cost better."
"No matter," Matilda said. "You've come to me and I'll see what it is that I can do for you. You say you're looking for an herb called Lamia's hair?"
"Yes, it's a weed flower with long purple petals and a silver-black center."
"That's generally something the cows eat."
"So Father William said," Cedric said.
"And he's right, the old coot." She stacked the bowls together and set them aside. "But there is one field where I know the cow herders don't go. It's too close to old Hammerford."
"Old Hammerford?" Cedric leaned forward.
"Yes, the original site of the town. Long since given up to beasts and ghosts." Matilda stoked the fire and fell silent. "I'm reluctant to send you there, but it's the only place I know for certain you can find that flower without sending you ranging across a hundred different fields."
"We'll go there. Just point us in the right direction," Emma said.
"Yes, we'll go."
"Promise me that you'll be careful. Whether or not the place is truly haunted, it is old and rotting. Not a good place to go."
Matilda gathered a few blankets off the bed.
"You'll be staying here for the night. Not sending you out in the cold to do battle against ghosts."
The morning started with heavy pounding on the door. Matilda, already up, whispered to her guests now just rising.
"It's best you leave by the lake." She ushered them to the far side of the house beside the bed and opened up a hole in the floor which lead down into the water. "Go now. Swim away. I'll keep our visitors busy." She shut the trapdoor behind them and they could hear her walking across the floor. Above them came voices.
"Matilda. We seek two fugitives."
Emma eased into the water and swam away with Cedric not far behind. They stayed mostly below the water, but not too far from the shore so they could get out once they were out of sight of Matilda's cottage. Out of the water, they did the best they could to squeeze the excess out of their clothes, but they were left
drenched.
"She didn't tell us where to find the town," Emma said.
"It's most likely further up river. We'll come to it if we keep walking."
"And what if we don't?"
"Then the next village we come to, we'll ask around. We cannot go back."
Despite wanting to, Emma knew Cedric was right. Matilda risked a lot to send them away. Going back would only put her in more danger. Emma grabbed Cedric's hand and they started down the way together with the river at their side.
Emma and Cedric headed through the forest away from the river. The guard continued to search for them, so stopping was hardly an option. They needed to get as far away as they could. However, men on horseback had the advantage of speed. Wits and strong limbs would be the only thing that could keep them ahead. Several hours later, they came to a fence post jutting out of nowhere. The overgrown ground near it sported flowers of various colors, but no purple. They passed it and kept going. The first ramshackle house they passed only had three walls and half a roof. The former front door hung off what was left of the jamb. Emma poked her head inside to see if anything grew through the floorboards. Didn't want to miss what they were looking for just because the place had an air of ancient decrepit mindless malevolence. A well sat in the center of the group of falling houses. Everywhere profusions of grass and flowers. The ground at least wasn't rancid. Emma's shoeless feet liked the soft dirt and grass over the harsh terrain of the forest. Fewer roots to trip over and stub her toes. Cedric stopped at the well and looked down it.
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