“So, you can overrule the curse…?” Queen Marjorie managed, again with such a small voice, I had trouble making out the words.
“I can’t so much as overrule it, Your Ladyship, but I can change it.”
“How do you mean?” Queen Marjorie threw an impatient glance at the king, whose flippant hand wave only emphasised the confusion and desperation written over Marjorie’s poor being.
Elsa threw on a victorious, encouraging smile. “I didn’t give my blessings, yet, did I?”
Hadn’t she? I hadn’t realized. I’d spent most of my evening avoiding gazes along the edges of the halls and among curtains…Perhaps that was right: she hadn’t.
Tears had washed Marjorie’s cheeks blushed with red already, as she kept wiping vigorously at her eyes and glancing at the baby and the nanny, who was now rocking the crib with a closed-up expression.
The nanny was an old woman with her hair in a tight bun that I imagined was tied the exact same way every morning, year after year after year — why did I think that? No clear reason. But I suspected that the magic in the room was so heightened that I was starting to get epiphanies and impressions of everyone.
“Let me try, Your Highness,” Elsa said softly, as she wasn’t getting a coherent answer from the devastated Marjorie.
Elsa knelt down on the marble, gathering the silks under her knees, and began to chant, which was nothing but quiet murmuring that resounded in the room and bounced from the walls creating webs of magic. As soon as I made out what the low sound was, it eased my worries.
This Latin and Greek was the exact same that had once warmed up our wooden shag of planks and filled it with surreal magic of all flavors, perhaps never fitting for such circumstances, but so naturally flowing from all our hearts. We were descendants of natural-born sorcerers, we bore the blood of fairies, we commanded things without intending to. Our magic had always been our joyful treasure, our lifeline, our delight, and even now the familiar words only brought a sense of warmth in my sorry misery.
I didn’t trust that Elsa would be able to lift a curse like this, though. It was too heavy for our halfling magic to get undone. But I couldn’t think of other options, either, so perhaps this was the best bet, to at least try. I’d already used up my magic and so had all the other sisters. Elsa was the only one with energies to spend. She could try. But my heart already broke for the child. So young…
The Word of Death. Such a heavy word; such heavy magic. I would have done anything to take back that ugly word now. I never intended for it to end up on the poor little innocent baby Aurora. That was the last thing I would have wanted. How did this go so utterly, horribly wrong? We were here to bring fortune and luck, we were here to guarantee this child’s journey through her life was a delightful one, and what did I bring?
The audience watched, still, perfectly silent. Some were sitting down, now, if they’d stood up with all the commotion. I sensed hope but had little of my own. Thinking I could make use of the confusion, I discreetly walked to Elsa and the baby.
Elsa’s magic chants manifested into the room and created a shimmering mist that swayed like waves in the air. I might have been the only one seeing it, since even my sisters didn’t have a terribly keen eye for that. Some of the lines the chants formed were broken, mangled, and I knew why. Elsa wasn’t the most diligent one to spend hours practicing a skill. She had raw talent and fantastic natural powers, but she simply wasn’t the most experienced sorceress. What she was, was a carefree temper, with masses of natural talent to spend, doing the best with what she had, but not stopping to bother with detail.
I, on the other hand, had never found the same ease with which she cast her spells, but I had the practice of years and years of hard work. Of course, there had been no choice. Sometimes, during the coldest winters, when the fire had threatened to die during the long, starry nights, I’d kept the house warm, not by carrying more wood in the fireplace, but by uttering word after word on my bed cot, in the dark, crying.
I knelt beside Elsa on the floor just like her, keeping my eyes down, so I wouldn’t invite anyone objecting to me joining in, and then I began humming the next words in the verses for her. Elsa gave me a grateful glance, took my words, repeated them in her own style, and corrected her wrong lines. From there, I gave her the words, and she repeated them, making them light up with a brilliance that made us share looks: there was power in this. There was, for real. We might still have a chance.
I had inadvertently closed my eyes and sunken into that hazy state where you go, when you concentrate on complicated magic, when a slap across the side of my head sent me sprawled on the floor. My cheek burned, but what stung worse was my shame, when I saw the look on Queen Marjorie’s face.
“What do you think you’re doing? You have no business here, you hag! I should hope you’d have the sensibilities to leave now and never come back again! You should be happy to get away with your life, even…But I don’t want to see you or deal with you, so go! Leave now, before I change my mind and command the guards to end you like you’d deserve.”
I sat still, staring, pretending I couldn’t hear her, because if we didn’t finish this spell with Elsa, the curse would run its course, and there was no way it wouldn’t be fatal…That’s what it was designed to be. I understood Marjorie only too well, but I couldn’t leave before we’d done this.
A glance around the room made me chill, however. The Royal Army’s guard soldiers were moving closer and fidgeted in a threatening way, glancing at each other, and the crowd could have killed me with their looks. One of the guards met my eyes, and at that, strode towards me, spear tilted—probably going for my heart.
I jumped up. Now, if I only had a fraction of a moment, what could I give Elsa?
The ending. The spell’s final words.
I turned to meet her pleading eyes.
“Remember the forbidden verses from the end of the book we read together, Elsa? The reality-bending verses? Remember?”
Then I cited the strongest words I’d likely ever said out loud in my life. After all, they were the verse to modify a death spell, and such a thing should not even exist. But I had a hunch it just might work, and from Elsa’s face, I saw she hoped so too.
Thank goodness for one lonely moment one evening, when I’d thought, why not, that’s useful, I might need that…and I’d memorised the Eternalia. Eternal sleep. It changed a person’s perception of life into a dream. I’d taught it to Elsa, once, when we had an idle moment. Thank goodness for moments of spur.
Elsa got what I meant, nodding. The only trouble left was, we didn’t have much energy to work with. It couldn’t possibly be enough.
The guard had stopped to evaluate the situation, but came to some conclusion, took the last steps, closing the gap between us, and pressed the spear to my chest with one swift move.
“We’re trying to undo this,” I hurried to say, my voice shaking.
Outside, lightning flashed. It lit up the whole row of high windows.
Suddenly it came to me. That storm outside — it was packed with energies.
When we’d ridden here in our carriages, the skies over the Castle had been brewing with gray clouds, and the lightning outside right now meant the worst of it had to be right about over our heads.
We needed one item from the baby, and we’d need to catch lightning on it…That would charge it with powers, and we could use that as a charm in the spells.
I turned back to the baby, her breath huffing in her sleep. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I was pretty sure there was still a change. Not many things could be reversed, but anything, anything at all in life could always be modified…
A guard’s iron grip caught my left arm. Almost by gut reaction, I yanked it free — practice.
The guard reached for me again, but not before I’d flung out at the crib and grabbed a golden rattle. Perfect! I sprung to my feet and backed away, the guards moving up with me and surrounding me from all sides.
Marjorie r
aised a hesitant hand. “Let’s hear her.”
I rubbed my arm, my thoughts wild in my mind, filled with rebellion. Then I gave Elsa a quick, encouraging smile and I recited a battle magic spell. With my low reserves, it had ridiculously feeble power, but I thought it could work to confuse the guards before they understood it carried no effect.
And then I ducked.
I dashed through the hall, gripping the rattle, as if it were some kind of strange tournament weapon. On a whim, I began giving people wild grimaces. Make way for the crazed witch! Beware, don’t touch this violent lunatic! File away and whimper…!
People seemed too shocked to react fast enough, and nobody came to conclusions in time before I reached the door. I slammed it closed and dove to the stairs that lead to the higher floors, and, I could only hope, the roof.
There had to be a latch or a ladder, there always was, right? This was a castle. They had to have a way to tend to the roof structures.
I groped at the walls on both sides to push myself along, where my legs wouldn’t carry, and ran as fast as I could, panting, blood fleeing my legs.
Sounds of iron clanking carried from below, so I imagined the guards were after me. And of course, they would be. I’d tried to throw a death spell on the King and then I’d cursed little baby Aurora! Of course, they’d throw me in the dungeon now, and rightly so…Heavens, I would, too!
Never mind that the king had killed our mother out of mindless greed, and now ruled harshly, such a sickeningly cruel-hearted man…It was still not right to put the curse of death upon another soul.
And even if I would have saved countless people from hardship and torment by ending his reign, like I imagined, how could I think I knew what were the other options? No, it was still not right. I had acted on impulse, without thinking.
Blame it on the way our stepfather trained me. If I didn’t think fast and act faster, I was beaten. If I didn’t make hasty decisions, I had no decisions left to make.
At least, that’s what I’d always believed, call it what you will. Call it stupidity, call it madness; I’d survived.
I’d worried the door to the roof would require a key, but I was in luck. With a shove, it opened up to a stormy, humid evening. A sharp breeze hit me, laced with rain.
Chapter 4
I ran out on the roof, my breath already harsh in my throat. A tingling sensation alerted me, enveloping my feet, so discreet that I almost didn’t pay attention to it at first, but then it got heavier and heavier and began weighed me down until I couldn’t ignore it.
I reached a narrow opening in the stone wall, likely used for shooting arrows down to the courtyard at times of attacks, and I stopped to balance myself against the wall, as I bowed down to check my feet, but saw nothing in particular.
It felt like magic, but if it was magic, I was sure I would have spotted some gentle haze…? Even if there was no downright light, smoke or pall, I had such keen eyes for it and always made out something. A sheen or haze, even. But now, nothing. Yet I felt it. How strange.
As I came out of the shelter of the wall again to the mercy of the weather, the winds flung my hair and made my dress swirl. The rooftop might have been good for catching lightning, but the winds could take me, too, if I wasn’t careful…
The castle tower loomed above as the highest point here. It would be the perfect spot if I wanted lightning to strike. Though, as I took a look around, from here, I had a view over the castle yard waiting far below, and the climb to the tower did not look inviting, with these torrents. The sky was a murky purple and spotted with darker cloud. Of course, climbing the tower was the best bet. After all, I needed to get this bolt of lightning to strike basically right in my lap…Yes, it would be best to stand on the tower roof and hold the rattle high up.
Fumbling for a hold of the stone railing circling the roof, I tucked my skirt between my knees and looked for footholds between the wall stones, gazing up along the intimidating walls of the narrow stone tower. I wedged the tip of my shoe into a crack between the stones and balanced myself against the rail. Just then I noticed the ugly gargoyle statue right there, behind me, conveniently close-by, right in the corner where the railing turned. It looked great for climbing. In fact, if I got on the gargoyle statue’s shoulders, I’d reach the ladder that followed the tower wall. The ladder was just so too high for me to reach otherwise, but the gargoyle made the climb look easy. Perfect.
My foot hold swayed, and the soles of my shoes didn’t meet hard stone but something soft. Fur-like. Animalistic. My heart jolted.
Then the whole world tilted in a disorienting manner and threw me off. What, a stone statue, moving? The gargoyle statue stood up, uncoiling from its crouch, making it impossible for me to stay put to the wall, and I fell off and landed on my back on the roof stones, painfully hitting my flank.
The coal gray creature slowly turned its head, and it was still wearing that same gruesome grin. Shivers went down my spine. Its glowing red eyes told it all: it wasn’t stone, it was very much a living creature, a personality, though an absolutely frightening one…a living, breathing gargoyle demon.
They hid in places like this to take a nap or to simply wait and watch, always looking for the next opportunity to bargain for bits of souls and magic. It was well-known they hibernated on rooftops of churches and on castle balconies, silently waiting for opportunities, for whatever it was that they spent their lives at; bargaining with evil things, tricks, demonic things.
I backed away, kicking my feet, as I scrambled backwards, desperately slow, feeling like a crab in quicksand. When I met the demon’s yellow glare again, his eyes bore into mine as if shooting fire. I gasped without sound, but the demon’s reaction made me freeze. He stopped me. He could command me. I felt him gripping my mind. With enormous power, too. But he hesitated to take over my will.
“Amalia…?” he said in an icy, high voice that resonated in my bones and made my skin shiver.
“Yes. What do you want?” How could he know my name?
“What do I want?” he said as if the whole question was outrageous. “Why, I want what any creature of the darkness hereabouts would want, with the smell of a death spell still wafting deliciously in the air.”
No. How could it be aware of that? Demons could smell magic?
“A smell of a death spell? Must have been something happening in town today,” I muttered with a clenched jaw. “Perhaps some hedge witches playing with magic? Perhaps a drunken bar fight among some conmen with some hedge magic tricks? I wouldn’t know anything about that. But I haven’t smelled anything wafting in the air except the drunken foul breath of these patrons—”
“Oh, I think it was closer than that.”
“Why so? Are you accusing me?”
“It was close enough to make your scarfs carry the scent of death, is all I’ll say. The Word of Death? Delicious.”
I swallowed. “Why would I be casting spells of magic? And the Word of Death? Would I know a spell like that? Someone like me, a nobody?” Why, indeed, would anyone be throwing around death spells at King John’s castle! Why would everyone not! I was likely not the first to try, nor the last. But I might have been the first one to actually have gone and done it.
“Amalia, Amalia…” He tsk’ed. “I know you are of fairy descent. It’s proof enough that you can see me. Now, tell me, what do you know about this death spell, before I wring your skinny neck?”
“I know the spell’s cast already, so what’s done is done…And one thing’s for sure, I can’t control it now,” I said, hoping that would drive him away.
I knew little about demons, only what I’d read in one book that we’d had at home. The book claimed demons could read minds, to some extent. They could see into your brain and pick apart what was floating topmost on your mind, and they could tell which of that was most familiar to you, most meaningful, and how you felt about it. They could find out which names were familiar to you, which towns, which professions, which tools…things like that.
But did this creature really read my name from my own thoughts?
“Ahhah! You stubborn fairy wench! Things are swimming in your mind by ample handfuls, clear and condemning, and they couldn’t escape my claws even if I shut my eyes and whistled!” For emphasis, he raised his hands in front, the claws clutching the air like sharpened scimitars, all the three-inch, curving nails of black. “Hah. To me, it’s clear as waif blood that you cast the death spell on the King but failed to guide it all the way. Now it lies upon that infant child, half-way finished, half-way stopped, an abnormality…How could you let that happen, Amalia, I wonder?” He found that amusing, apparently, judging from the knowing smirk. Or did he think this was some kind of a great business opportunity for him, something that he could bargain on? The greedy gleam in his beady, black eyes was hard to interpret.
“What do you want, you beastly thing?”
“Again, I want what any darkling would, with your fairy kind strutting utterly exquisite magic. I have not seen such pure magic in a long time. You said so yourself — it’s the smell of hedge witch magic wafting hereabouts, if anything, nothing more classy. There are none who bear actual lineage worth mention…For once, it would be nice to taste the real thing.”
“You want my magic?”
“Just a morsel,” the demon hurried to say, tilting its head, throwing a brief, calculating look from underneath the lashless, opaque eyes. “A morsel only, and for a good price.”
“Bargaining like a lying salesman…”
“What demon would not be? We serve the devil, the dark overlord. He likes his prizes and his deserved pay.”
“How on earth does he deserve…Never mind. My magic’s not for sale. Besides, I spent all the energies I had.”
“Most of them. And for now. The energies you had for now…But there will be more. Your heart makes magic, you silly wench, which you know as well as any demon bargainer. I would be surprised if you hadn’t been approached on this before.”
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance Page 48