Candlewax

by C. Bailey Sims

  “They will destroy Swiggins, too, if we kill the last fairrier cats,” said Catherine in a measured tone.

  “Trodliks in Swiggins? I can’t imagine such a thing!” Bessie snorted. “That could never happen.”

  “The trodliks will not come to Lackanay as long as the fairrier cats live,” said Catherine gravely.

  “But that is just a myth, Clara.”

  “No, Bessie, it’s true. It has just been so long since Devona was destroyed that people have forgotten. The fairrier cats protect us!” Catherine grabbed Bessie’s arm and lowered her voice to a murmur, “I travel with a fairrier cat and seek his mate. I must find her before all is lost.” Her eyes met with Bessie’s.

  “Finally—the truth! You are tellin’ me the truth!” Bessie stepped away from Catherine, looking her up and down with something akin to awe.

  “Yes. Today I must leave and continue my search.” Catherine looked around her, anxious to get a sense of direction. “Can you tell me where the falls are? I am to meet the fairrier cat there.”

  “Today? You are leavin’ today?” Bessie did not attempt to hide her disappointment. Catherine nodded. I wish I could stay. At least a little longer.

  “Well, ‘tis easy to find the falls. Just follow the village brook upstream.” Bessie’s tone was lackluster and distracted. She was still staring at Catherine.

  “I won’t forget your kindness, Bessie!” On impulse, Catherine gave Bessie a hug and, despite her sadness, she laughed. As they walked through the village, Catherine grew more radiant with anticipation, Bessie quiet with worry. Now that Bessie knew about fairrier cats and trodliks, Catherine felt a rush of relief. She hadn’t realized how all alone she had felt.

  A sign in the shape of a feather in front of a tiny scrivener’s shop drew Catherine inside to buy parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. A thin man with papery skin and bony hands scurried to get them from the shelves.

  “Why are you buyin’ these goods, Clara?” whispered Bessie.

  “If I go to unknown lands I’ll have to make my own maps so I don’t get lost.” Catherine felt her pulse quicken at the thought, but Bessie looked horrified.

  Outside, Catherine was still thinking about the fine maps she would create when they rounded a corner and Bessie suddenly stopped. Catherine looked up, following her gaze.

  In the distance was a party of eighteen horsemen and six packhorses. Catherine immediately recognized Sir Gavin with his straight posture and broad shoulders. Next to him was her father. Thank goodness he’s wearing his regular armor and not his crown. Wolfy trotted beside the horses, as big as a small pony in his own right.

  “Why, it’s the Crystal king!” Bessie grinned at the sight of the approaching men, dancing with excitement. “See, they are riding under the insignia of Crystallia!” The horsemen were drawing closer. Taking her arm, Catherine dragged Bessie back around the corner out of view.

  Bessie shook her off, furious. “Didn’t you hear me? I said it’s the Crystal king! We must pay our respects! What is the matter with you?”

  “It’s my father, Bessie,” Catherine whispered desperately. “He mustn’t find me, or he will take me home and I won’t be able to help the fairrier cat. I have to leave. Now!” She peered around the corner, breathing hard.

  “Your father rides with the king’s men?” Bessie asked, impressed.

  She turned. “My father is the king.” She followed Bessie’s laughing snort of disbelief with a cutting, haughty stare—one she would have reserved for the worst of the royal court’s lackeys.

  Bessie caught her breath. The satchel of food dropped from her arms to the ground and a waxed ball of cheese rolled out. She slumped against the wall, her mouth open. If Catherine weren’t so anxious she would have laughed out loud at her friend’s shocked expression.

  “But Clara, that means... that means you... are Princess Catherine!”

  “Yes, Bessie, I am she. Or was. Now I have a job to do. Now I am just your friend.” Catherine managed a smile.

  Bessie turned pale, and suddenly Catherine felt ashamed of her deceit. Bessie said, “Of course. The dagger is really yours. The crystal you traded.” As the truth of what she had witnessed poured through her, Bessie fell to her knees, bowing her head. “Forgive me for bein’ so rude to you, princess.” Her voice was strained and formal.

  Catherine pulled her to her feet. “Bessie, we have no time for this nonsense. Help me get away!”

  “O’ course, your highness.” Bessie continued to look at the ground.

  “Bessie.” Catherine fought to control her exasperation. “Call me Catherine or call me Clara, but please, don’t call me your highness!”

  “I should have given you the bed to sleep in. To think that you carried water in for your bath. That I called you a liar...”

  “I was a liar, Bessie. Come to your senses. Look at me!” Catherine shook her gently by the shoulders. Bessie raised her eyes cautiously to meet Catherine’s. Under Catherine’s warm gaze, the fear in them melted as precious seconds passed.

  Finally, Bessie cleared her throat, patted her hair, and briskly smoothed her dress. “Put your hat on,” she ordered. “By all the saints, anyone could spot that mane a mile away.” Smiling, Catherine did as she was told. Bessie scooped up the cheese and the satchel.

  “You do look like a boy in those clothes,” remarked Bessie with a last critical glance. “Now—follow me. Quickly, but no runnin’.”

  Bessie led her back toward the center of the village. The streets were more crowded than ever. They made their way to the village mill on the outskirts of town.

  “I’ll see you to where the path parts. Then go upstream until you reach the waterfall.”

  “Good. I’ll wait there for Pokos.”

  “Pokos?” Bessie sounded wary.

  “Spelopokos is the fairrier cat. He won’t harm you if you’re with me.”

  Bessie’s face lost a little of the color it had regained. “Are you sure?”

  Catherine stopped. She wasn’t entirely sure after all. She reached down into her shirt and lifted the necklace off of her neck, placing it over Bessie’s head. She suddenly felt naked.

  “This will protect you until I’ve had a chance to talk to him, just in case. I’ll need it back straight away. It was my grandmother’s.” Catherine lifted Bessie’s collar. “Tuck it inside your dress out of sight.”

  “What is it?”

  “A talisman. It will keep Spelopokos from hurting you if he sneaks up on us.”

  “Sneaks up on us?” Bessie’s face was now a sheet.

  “He does that sometimes.” Catherine glanced again at her friend then spoke more quickly. “It’s safe, Bessie. Please believe me. I promise you, the talisman will provide a glow all around you that Pokos can see.”

  Catherine glanced back toward Swiggins. The square was now bustling with activity; her father and his search party were drawing a curious crowd of village folk. To her surprise, tears welled up in her eyes and her throat grew tight. For an instant it was all she could do to keep herself from running back the way she had come—calling for her father and Sir Gavin. She swallowed hard and forced herself to look ahead.

  As they climbed above the village the trail grew more taxing. Catherine begged a minute’s rest and sat down upon a large boulder. With a sudden inspiration she pulled off her boots and then her socks and stuffed them with Pokos’s fur.

  “So it really works? That cat fur makes you run faster?”

  “Like the wind. You take some.” She handed Bessie a wad. Bessie proceeded to put the fur into her socks.

  “It’s nice and soft,” she said, grinning. She put her shoes on. “Here, let’s sort out your things while we’re resting.”

  Bessie and Catherine emptied the contents of the pack onto the ground. Bessie took her extra pair of shoes, tied the laces together, and hung them over her shoulder. She helped Catherine fold the woolen garments and placed them neatly into the pack. The food went in last. She stood behind Cather
ine to adjust the straps until the pack hung snugly and well balanced on her back.

  “That feels better, even though it’s heavier.” A wisp of hair escaped her new wool hat and she tucked it back inside.

  “It’s just a bit farther...” Bessie’s smile faded and a look of dread crossed her face.

  Coming down the trail was a party of men on horseback. They carried no pennant, but the horses had thick leather chest armor painted a dark orange with the letter K in black at the center.

  The first rider stopped a few yards from the girls. He had a large square face, a protruding bulbous nose, and a scar on his chin.

  “Well, now. On an errand are you?” His rough voice dripped with sarcasm, and the men with him laughed loudly. “Running away more like. A young man and his lass? Very naughty of you.” Bessie clapped her hand over her mouth and stifled a scream. Catherine reached for the dagger and drew it out.

  “A young slip of a boy without so much as a shadow of a beard thinks he is going to protect you.” The large, square-faced man now chortled along with his companions, and his already red complexion turned even darker.

  “That’s a pretty lass you’ve got there, lad. I’ll wager she’s one of the prettiest girls in the village,” said a sallow-faced man with greasy black hair. His grin showed teeth that were much too large for his face.

  “If she’s from the village. She might be the one Kallik is looking for. About the right age.” The square-faced man dismounted and approached Bessie.

  “Don’t come any closer!” Catherine lowered her voice, trying to sound as gruff as possible.

  Challenged by Catherine’s threat, Square Face swaggered closer. Buckteeth leaned forward in his saddle and peered at Bessie.

  “She’s not the one. That one has fair hair and this one here has dark hair,” said Buckteeth irritably.

  “Could be she’s changed the color of her hair,” said Square Face as he gave Buckteeth a dark look. “I’ve heard some women folk know how to do that with berry juice and roots and such. Besides, if she is not the princess, Kallik might still be amused by her.”

  “Aye,” said the man with the buckteeth. “Too bad they don’t live very long once he takes an interest in them. But what of the boy?” He laughed and Catherine felt a shock run through her limbs.

  “Five drats for a conscript,” said Square Face. “Even if he is a bit young.”

  Square Face lunged at Bessie, and Catherine slashed at him with the dagger. She missed his arm and didn’t see his fist coming at her face until it was too late. The blow caught her on the jaw and sent her flying backward to the ground. Catherine felt for her hat and noted that it was miraculously still in place. She felt like she’d been kicked by a horse. Her jaw was throbbing.

  Square Face grabbed Bessie and pulled her face close, smelling her hair. Bessie cried out in surprise and pain. Catherine shot forward with the dagger and plunged it into his leg above the knee. She yanked the blade out and jumped to her feet. Her stomach clenched from a combination of fear and revulsion.

  With a deafening yell, the large man let go of Bessie and spun around, pulling a knife from his belt. It dwarfed Catherine’s dagger. His leg wound oozed blood over his riding boot, yet he did not limp. Oh no! Catherine looked into his furious gray eyes as he tossed the enormous knife from hand to hand.

  Square Face was grinning now and feinting from one jab to the next, toying with her.

  “Too bad this one is so green. No sport in betting. Jessup’s got him like a bug under his boot,” said one of the riders.

  Catherine yelled, “Run, Bessie! Run back to the village!”

  Jessup spat and ordered, “Get the girl! I’ll not have her raising a hue and cry!”

  Buckteeth goaded his horse toward Bessie and grabbed at her clothing. Bessie dodged to the side and looked at Catherine desperately.

  “Run, I tell you!” Catherine shouted.

  Bessie looked quickly to her right, then her left. Then suddenly down at her feet. A calculating look illumined her face. She grinned cockily at Catherine and shouted to Buckteeth, “Catch me if you can, you stinkin’ chamber pot!”

  Bessie flew back down toward the village with Buckteeth giving chase. Her strides were long and fluid. She sprinted down the path, leaping gracefully over the turns. The extra pair of shoes that had been hanging over her shoulder went sailing off into the brush. The rider whipped his horse to a run, but the hill was too steep. It reared and plunged off the trail into the brush with a terrified neighing.

  “After her! Don’t let her get to the village!” shouted Jessup to the other men, momentarily taking his eyes off of Catherine. She darted to the side and bounded into the forest. The pack no longer felt heavy on her shoulders. She was only conscious of how the size of it restricted her choices as she maneuvered around the rocks and trees.

  “You will die, boy!” screamed Jessup. “I’ll skin you myself! All your heroics will be for nothin’!” He blundered after her, angrily brushing branches out of the way and slipping on the mossy rocks. But Catherine was soon completely out of sight, with nothing but a few leaves bobbing on branches telling which direction she had gone.

  Jessup stumbled on, his knife blade leading the way. “I’ll get you, you snivelin’...” He stopped, looking down at his wound and swearing. It was now bleeding heavily.

  Catherine watched him from behind a tree. I can easily outrun him in the forest if he comes after me again. Jessup swore again and wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his sleeve. Twenty yards behind him on the trail, his horse suddenly whinnied in fright and bolted down the path to the village. Jessup yelled after it and cursed mightily. With the sound of hoofbeats fading in the dusty air, he threw his arms up in disgust and began a slow, limping descent to the village.

  “Smart horse,” muttered a familiar voice beside her.

  Catherine stifled a scream. “Pokos, you have got to stop sneaking up on me like that!” She was torn between the desire to pummel him and throw her arms around his neck.

  “Good to see you, too. And by the looks of it you’ve already lost the pendant.”

  “I didn’t lose it. I just lent it to Bessie so you wouldn’t attack her by mistake.”

  Pokos’s snort was indignant. “I never attack anything or anybody by mistake, Catherine. It is always on purpose.”

  Catherine ignored him. “I hope she got back to the village. Kallik’s men thought she might be me. They are looking for her.”

  “Get on,” Pokos ordered. Catherine didn’t move. Pokos looked at her sternly. “We must leave. Your father and his search party are on our heels and now Kallik’s men will be hunting you. It is most unwise to remain any longer.”

  “I can’t leave without knowing if Bessie is safe. She helped me, Pokos.” Catherine carefully felt the swelling along her jaw. The result of Jessup’s punch was beginning to make itself known, and it hurt.

  “With your father and his party in the village, Kallik’s men will not dare to harm her. They’re cunning, not brave. Outnumbered as they are, they will have no interest in provoking your father. Most of their raids on Crystallia are carried out in cowardly nighttime strikes.”

  Catherine considered all of her father’s sudden, late-night departures with his men for “training drills” and realized that Kallik’s attacks on Crystallia were more numerous and aggressive than King Stephen had let on. How he has tried to shield me from worry and the knowledge of Kallik’s incursions. How had she not seen it? The men returning tired and steely eyed the next day. Her father’s brooding silences. Her mother’s anxious looks and obvious relief the moment she spied them. I’ve been such a fool.

  “What about the pendant?” asked Catherine.

  “Ah yes, the pendant. You wish to risk your life in order to recover something that is intended to protect you. We shall have to circle back to the village in a few days to get it back from Bessie. Somehow I don’t think...” Pokos abruptly stopped talking, eyes focused on the trail once again.
/>   “What is it, Pokos?”

  “Your friend did not run fast enough.”

  Catherine gasped. Kallik’s men were coming back up the trail. Jessup was in the lead. Sitting behind him with her hands bound behind her back was Bessie. Her terrified eyes were searching the forest with wild, furtive glances. A rag was tied over her mouth.

  “We’ve got to get closer and find out where they are going,” whispered Catherine.

  “I know where they are going, Catherine.” Pokos said bitterly. “They will take her to Tabrek. Kallik will at once know that she is not you and then vent his anger on this poor village girl.”

  “We can’t let that happen! Bessie is my friend. We’ve got to stop them!” Catherine clutched his soft coat, her voice breaking.

  “We will get Bessie back,” he said.

  For a moment the chilling threat in his voice frightened Catherine. She watched as the soldiers disappeared around a bend in the trail, then grabbed hold of Pokos’s fur, flinging herself over his back. If he felt the extra weight of the pack, he said nothing. They melted into the forest behind Kallik’s mercenaries.

  The mountain trail grew steeper as they climbed out of the valley. Bessie squirmed in the saddle. Jessup was big, making a comfortable ride impossible. Her neck, legs, and back ached with the strain of trying not to fall from the saddle every time the horse changed its gait or turned abruptly at Jessup’s bidding. With her hands tied behind her back it was no easy trick to keep her balance. Despondent, she prayed for even a glimpse of Catherine.

  Jessup smelled like whiskey, rotten chicken, and body odor. She wished that the dirty rag he had tied over her mouth had been tied over her nose instead. Worst of all was the coppery smell of blood. His leg wound had soaked through the dirty bandage and blood had stained her skirt.

  Bessie wondered when her family would realize she was gone. This thought started fresh tears streaking down her cheeks. She rubbed them away as best she could with her shoulder and then let the curtain of her hair hide her face. It had been three hours, at least. She and Catherine were long overdue at the house, but her father might have thought that the arrival of the Crystal king had somehow interfered with their return, which, of course, it had. She straightened her back, moving away from Jessup as much as possible. I must accept me fate and make the best of it. I am on my own.