The Daughters Daring (The Daughters Daring & The Enchanted Forest Book 1)

by Steven J. Thompson

  Emily quickly pulled her journal from her pack and tore a page out. Writing on it, she folded it twice and handed it to Randolph. “Give this to my father, if you can,” she said, then watched him go link up with the other gnomes. She made sure to stay in the foliage as a group of goblins followed not far behind the gnomes. Hairy Foot and Stink Eye were there with them. If they saw her, they’d surely alert the witch.

  Emily turned back into the forest that didn’t seem so enchanted, now. She knew to stay on the paths that crisscrossed through the greenery. One of them had to lead her back into the cave. Somehow, she had to free her sister from a witch protected by a magical shield, and get past goblins and the ogre.

  Her thoughts drifted to the poison pies. If the gnomes were unable to warn the city guards about the sweetberry pies, the whole kingdom could fall to the witch's army. But what army? Emily suddenly realized she’d only seen goblins. It didn’t make any sense that those little creatures would try to take over the city. There had to be something more to the witch’s plan. But what?

  “Hello,” a small voice said from right next to her.

  Emily turned but saw nothing.

  Emily asked, “Who’s there, and where are you?”

  “I'm right here,” the voice said, as a tiny person seemed to materialize in front of her. It was a small girl, floating on wings as beautiful as a butterfly's. Light seemed to emanate from within her.

  “Oh my gosh,” Emily said, “You’re a faery!”

  “Yes. I am Azalea of the Northern Wood Faeries. I was trapped by the witch and forced to work for her until your sister freed me.”

  “But now the witch has her and I have to get her out of there! Please can you help me?"

  "That's why I'm here," she said. “Follow me and I will help you.”

  

  The witch’s cave was roomy, although not as large as the cavern beneath it. The walls and ceiling were covered in thick web. In the middle of the room were some tables and chairs, a bookshelf, and a few odd looking devices. Books and notes were strewn about one table while the other was clean and seemed to be meant for magical experiments.

  Elizabeth found herself bound in web, but the silence spell had been removed, so she could speak. “If I were free, I’d shoot you with my best arrow.”

  “Must you be so combative?” The witch said.

  Elizabeth regarded her captor. She was actually pretty for a witch. Her skin was pale white, her hair raven black. There was something about her eyes though; they seemed empty and dark.

  “You are safe as my prisoner, for now. Do you really wish to anger me?”

  “Blah blah blah,” Elizabeth said mockingly. “It doesn't seem very safe up here, with all this sticky, nasty stuff on your walls! You really should do some cleaning.”

  “Keep annoying me and I will send you back down with the goblins, or perhaps that disgusting ogre would like a new playmate.”

  Elizabeth could just move her feet, but not her legs. She inched along the edge of the room, trying to keep the witch talking while she maneuvered to just the right position. In the corner of the cave she spotted another venting shaft, this one larger than the one in the kitchen, and it was covered with the strange webs instead of a grate. It gave her an idea, but she would have to time it perfectly.

  The witch was busy with something on the book table. Perhaps she was preparing another spell, Elizabeth thought. Better to keep her distracted from whatever she was doing.

  “So,” Elizabeth started, “let me see if I have this right. You're sending a bunch of pies filled with sleeping potion to the kingdom so that when the guards are asleep you can take over?”

  “Something like that, yes,” the witch answered. “How did you know about the sleeping potion?"

  “What else would you use valerian root for?” Elizabeth answered, not wanting to give away the gnomes.

  “You're very clever for such a young girl," the witch said, coming closer. “Too smart for a peasant's daughter. What is your name?”

  “Elizabeth,” she answered, trying to sink back into the shadows. The vent was directly behind her now.

  “And what is your father's name, Elizabeth?” The witch asked somewhat annoyed.

  “My father? Oh, he's nobody.

  “Say, how are you going to take control of the castle and the kingdom with those goblins? I mean, what happens when the guards wake up? Won't they just shoo the pesky goblins back out the gates?”

  “If you must know,” the witch started.

  “Oh come on,” Elizabeth butted in. “Just admit I found the flaw in your grand plan. You'll be queen of the kingdom for what, four, maybe five hours?”

  “As I was saying.” The witch was clearly agitated, now, and it was beginning to show on her face.

  “Oh blah blah blah,” Elizabeth interrupted. “There you go again. What could you possibly have that will help you take the kingdom?”

  The witch's eyes lit up like fiery orbs, energy crackling in her hands as she aimed them at Elizabeth.

  “I have ogres!” The witch screamed as she hurled a ball of energy directly at Elizabeth Daring.

  

  Emily followed the faery through the forest, this time being more careful of the grabber vines and other enchanted tricks. They were following a different path than before, one that seemed to twist around behind the cave entrance. The farther they went, the forest seemed to grow darker, the trees more gnarly and twisted. A chill passed through Emily and she shuddered as something slithered into the brush next to them. Emily tightened her grip on her staff.

  “It's not all flowers and lights here, is it?” Emily asked.

  “No,” Azalea answered, “I'm afraid there are dark places in this forest, Emily Daring. Not very friendly for young girls, or faeries for that matter.”

  They could hear a commotion in the forest ahead of them.

  “We need to move quietly, now,” Azalea said. “There is a foul smell in the air.”

  Azalea lead Emily off the path and into the thicker brush, giving up ease of travel for concealment. The weeds were thick and seemed to forcefully wrap themselves around Emily's ankles. The faery could fly, but even the tree branches seemed to work against her, tiring her as she went.

  They proceeded through the forest, but stopped when they heard pig-like snorting up ahead. Azalea put a finger to her lips and motioned Emily to be silent. Emily dropped to her hands and knees and crawled forward slowly through the brush. She found a large thicket she could crawl into and peered out into the forest.

  She could see makeshift campsites in a small clearing ahead. They were messy, with bedding of old straw or weeds and moss. At first she didn't see anyone, then a creature walked into view. It was tall and broad shouldered. Its skin had a pale green hue and its nose was more of a snout. Having seen their king earlier, Emily knew this was another ogre.

  And there were more of them.

  Beyond the first one, she saw a gathering area with actual tents and tables stacked with weapons. There had to be at least a hundred ogres, and she was sure there were more nearby. Some were putting weapons onto carts while others were busy strapping on armor. It was a small army, and if there were any more like it, they would pose a serious threat to the kingdom. Emily crawled back to Azalea, making sure to move quietly.

  “Azalea,” she whispered, “this is bad. There is an army of ogres up here!”

  “You're right, it is bad,” Azalea answered. “They mean to make war on the kingdom of men!”

  “We have to send a warning,” Emily said, “but I can't leave Elizabeth with the witch. You need to go to the city and warn them.”

  “The affairs of humans are not my domain, Emily Daring,” Azalea said. “But you and your sister are very brave, and we owe you a debt. I will lead you to the entrance of the witch's lair, then I’ll go for help.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said, feeling some relief.

  “Don't thank me yet,” Azalea replied. “The witch is both ev
il and dangerous, and now you will be facing her alone."

  “I won't be alone,” Emily answered. “I'll have my sister!”

  “I fear that won't be enough,” answered Azalea, “but the witch does have a weakness.”

  Chapter 9

  Duchess Daring was enjoying the sunlight while working in her garden. If the duke was known for his collection of weapons and his adventures, the duchess was most certainly known for her amazing garden. It stretched easily over a third of their estate, with tall hedges creating paths much like the maze outside the king's castle. There were flowers of all shapes and colors and sizes, but her garden's value came from more than just its beauty.

  The duchess had learned from her mother the importance of growing herbs with medicinal and even magical effects. She had simple herbs like basil and rosemary out in plain sight, while the more mystical—even dangerous—plants were kept hidden deeper within the hedges. The untrained eye would not know what they were, anyway.

  The day she met the Duke, in the Enchanted Forest, she had been gathering a particularly rare herb known for its powerful healing effects against the worst of poisons. She had carefully collected both the petals and seeds so that she could grow it in her own garden, should its need ever arise.

  Her thoughts drifted back to that day with the duke. Then, as though summoned, she heard his hearty laughter as he showed off a fresh sweetberry pie as if it were some kind of baked trophy. Joseph clapped with joy and followed his father into the house. After weeks of going without, her husband had finally acquired his favorite treat from the guards at the city gate. She could hear him rambling on about how gnomes weren't such bad little people, after all.

  The duchess smiled. The duke loved a good sweetberry pie and would waste no time serving himself a generous slice. She wondered if he would give a piece to Joseph first, or just start in before sharing his spoils. She could picture them both grinning from ear to ear with sweetberry all over their faces.

  She put away her gardening tools and made her way inside. She had just entered the hall when she heard a loud thump in the next room, followed by Joseph crying for help. She rushed in to find the duke slumped over on the floor, snoring loudly. On the table were two pieces of sweetberry pie, one with a large bite taken out of it. Joseph hadn't eaten any.

  “What happened?” she asked Joseph, checking her husband to make sure he wasn't choking.

  “Papa was going to give me the first piece, but then he took a bite of it!”

  Her mind raced as she comforted Joseph and tried to wake the duke, to no avail. She checked the pie on his plate but couldn't see anything strange. Then she saw something in the pie plate. There, just in the middle of the pie, was a rolled piece of paper that had somehow been stuffed inside. She unrolled the paper to see the word POISON. It was written in a small handwriting that she knew all too well.

  How did a note in Elizabeth’s handwriting get into a pie delivered by gnomes? She wondered.

  Knowing, now, that the pie was the source of the duke's condition, she dipped her finger in and smelled, then took the tiniest taste. She had to know what the ingredient was in order to cure it. Even the small sample made her feel lightheaded, and she feared she’d fall asleep, as well. But as she fought off the sensation her risk paid off. She knew what ingredient had been used.

  “Valerian Root!” She exclaimed. “Joseph, stay here with your father.”

  Valerian root wasn’t actually a poison, but it did aid in bringing on sleep. Mixing it with sweetberries and a bit of magic had made a powerful concoction. Who could have cast such magic? She didn’t have time to ponder this. She took her Book of Remedies from the shelf and leafed through its pages, soon finding the recipe she was seeking. The sleep spell could be broken and she had the proper herbs. But would there be enough for the duke, and anyone else who had eaten the pies?

  Grabbing her garden shears, the duchess hurried out into the garden. She was searching for a particular plant, a flower that had great healing properties. It wouldn't be hidden like some of her more dangerous varieties, but in her alarmed state, she couldn’t be sure where it was planted.

  “There!” she exclaimed, as she came upon a beautiful row of chrysanthemums. They looked like simple flowers, but they were precisely the antidote she needed. She counted her blessings as there were at least a dozen in bloom, and collected enough to test her cure on the duke.

  She rushed back into the kitchen, where she found her mortar and pestle to crush the herbs. She had the rest of the ingredients she needed and set to work grinding them all together into a powder, being careful to exactly follow the instructions in her book. Finally, she carefully measured out a dose of the powder and stirred it into a cup of water. With potion in hand, she rushed to the duke, lifted his head, and poured a small amount into his mouth.

  Duchess Daring held her husband, praying for a quick result. At first, the Duke's eyes fluttered, then he choked and coughed as he awakened. Her potion worked.

  “Aryanna?” He asked. “What happened?”

  “You’re unharmed, my dear," she answered. “You were under a sleeping spell, but I have revived you.”

  “Sleeping spell?” he asked.

  “Yes, it was in the pie.”

  “In the pie,” the Duke said, still collecting his thoughts. “Those mischievous gnomes! I knew they couldn't be trusted!”

  “I don't think the gnomes would do this; it's not like them,” she said, “and I found this.” She handed him the berry-stained paper.

  “A note?”

  “It was in the pie, and it's in Elizabeth's handwriting!” She exclaimed.

  “How could that be? Where are the girls?” he said, his mind was racing.

  “Where did you get the pie?” she asked.

  “Gnomes brought the pies to the city gate, a gift for the guards and...the KING!”

  Fully revived, the duke stood up and ran to the closet for his armor and sword.

  “If the girls are in the Enchanted Forest, I will search for them as soon as I warn the guards!”

  “Wait!” she said, “warn them about what—the pies?”

  The Duke was already running out the door as he yelled over his shoulder, “The kingdom is under attack!”

  

  Elizabeth woke, her head hurting from the witch's blast. She tried to move, but not even her toes could wiggle. Examining herself, she realized she was bound in the strange, gooey cobwebs that filled the witch's lair.

  “You're awake!” the witch said.

  “Yes, and I'm covered in nasty webs!” Elizabeth snarled.

  “Oh relax,” the witch said. “They're perfectly clean, and much softer than rope”

  “So now you care about my comfort?" Elizabeth said. Her sarcasm was not lost on the witch.

  “Oh, what a joy you are!” the witch said, laughing. “Such a sharp tongue in one so young!”

  “Give me back my bow, and I'll show you my sharp arrows, too!”

  “Ah yes, your bow,” the witch said. “I noticed the crest it bears, the crest of the House of Daring. I think you've been withholding your identity from me.”

  “Maybe it was a gift from the Darings,” Elizabeth replied, “or I simply stole it.”

  The witch laughed again. “I like you, child. Tell me, why did you taunt me into hurling a ball of energy at you? You realize I could have killed you?”

  “I just wanted to see if you are as powerful as you said.” Elizabeth shrugged.

  “Perhaps,” the witch said, “or perhaps you are fascinated by my magic? I saw the look in your eyes. I know the hunger I saw there."

  “Hunger for what?” Elizabeth asked.

  “For power!” The witch exclaimed. “Let men have their muscles and their swords. Magic is the one thing that gives a woman power over all; it empowers the weak over the strong!"

  As the witch spoke energy again crackled at her fingertips. Her excitement was clearly energizing her, and Elizabeth couldn't keep herself from star
ing. The witch was right, she was fascinated! She imagined what it must be like to harness such energy, such power. No one, not her parents, or the King’s Guards, or even her sister, could tell her what to do if she possessed such power.

  Elizabeth banished the thought. The magic beckoned to her, but she resisted it. She had to concentrate on the pressing matter of discovering the witch’s plan.

  “I admit, you're powerful,” Elizabeth said. “But why attack Highcynder? What did they do?”

  “They have done plenty!” The witch yelled, as anger flashed in her eyes. “Your kingdom is not as righteous as you might think, your precious “king” not so just.”

  “Really?” Elizabeth prodded. “Please, do tell.”

  “He abandoned us, but, you're changing the subject again, aren't you? You're good at that, but now I know your weakness. You crave the knowledge and power that I wield.”

  “Maybe, but what does it matter? I doubt you would teach me.”

  “You're wrong, young one,” the witch said. “Life among the goblins can be lonely, and I need an apprentice to help with my cause. Hold out your hand.”

  The webs around Elizabeth’s arm receded, allowing her to extend her open hand. The witch harnessed the energy in her hand into a ball, dancing like a blue flame, and placed it into Elizabeth’s palm. Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. The sensation in her fingers wasn’t painful at all, but rather amazing. As she focused, she made it dance around in her hand, bending it to her will. Elizabeth smiled at this, not noticing that the witch smiled with her.

  “You have the gift for magic, Elizabeth.” The witch said. “Just like your mother.”

  Elizabeth’s concentration snapped back and the ball of energy faded away.

  “But I haven’t told you who my mother is.” Elizabeth answered.

  “Haven’t you?” The witch toyed with her. “Oh, no of course not.”

  “You mentioned your cause. What is it you really want?”

  “You really wish to know?" The witch answered. “Then I will tell you, plainly. Your kingdom is weak. King Lamont gives your people too much freedom, and a free people are given to the evils of excess. It all seems like great fun, until they find themselves wallowing in misery and chaos. I would bring them order and control. I would harness their selfish energies to be utilized for the greater good.”