I chuckled. “Funny, this. Your kind usually pull sleighs, not sleeps in them.”
She cracked open an eye at me, but couldn’t muster more than a soft huff in my direction. Her exhaustion was warranted, although I’d done most of the work in getting us there. Her foul mood was likely due to the pain of her broken leg.
Desperately tired, but not wanting to leave her in misery, I crouched to her level and softened my expression. “Is there anything I can do to help with that?” I motioned to her injury. “Perhaps you’ve some menras grass to chew for the pain?”
She opened her eyes, her nostrils flaring in irritation.
“Fine,” I said as I stood. “Then I’ll leave Her Highness to rest. Perhaps she’d like me to sleep on the floor should she need me during the night?”
When she huffed at me, a door beside the bed banged open, hitting the wall with a thud.
Scowling at her, I went to investigate. The door opened to the adjoining bedroom.
“Then I’ll take that as my dismissal,” I grumbled. “Do ring if my lady has any requirements.”
With that, I left her alone, immediately collapsing on the bed the moment my boots and soggy outer garments were off. Sleep took me instantly.
Chapter 3
It was the feel of the hard wood floor against my face that woke me. Or rather, it was the wind that blasted me out of bed and onto the floor that kicked off the day. Groaning with aches down to my bones, I pushed myself up, trying to get my bearings. When I took in the base of the table beside the bed, my gaze gradually lifting to gather more details, I struggled to remember where I was.
Kneeling on the polished floor, the events of the past day crept back to me, my body reaffirming every memory with a bruise or protesting muscles.
A magical elk.
An impossible door to an impossible house that held even more impossible things.
A promise that would hold me to all of it until whatever time I was allowed to leave.
As I fought my way to my feet, a very insistent grunt called to me from the adjoining room. Her Majesty demanded my presence.
“You know,” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I entered, “we’re going to have to work out a better system for when you need something. Do that again, and I’ll make you wait an hour next time.”
She huffed impatiently.
“All right, all right. What is it then? Breakfast?”
The elk flicked her head at the door to the hall and it opened with a whoosh, though not nearly as violently as the night before. I considered it a moment before turning back to her.
“We really need to develop your communication skills. I’m here to help you, not be your slave. Banging doors and blasting me from bed are not in anyone’s best interest.”
When she simply stared at me, bored, I sighed. “I’ll just work that out for myself then, shall I?” I headed for the door. “I’ll inform Her Highness when a decision’s been reached.”
Out in the hall, I stretched, attempting to work out some of the stiffness in my back and shoulders. I ran down a list of potential things to do that day, mostly things to make my life a little easier. First, though, food was in order.
The kitchen was almost exactly the way I left it the night before. The stove in the corner stood hot and ready, and the pantry was as fully stocked as I’d surmised from my brief inspection. There was one change, however. On a counter by the water basin, a large bundle of menras grass waited, the foot-long blades bound together with twine. A few other items stood at the ready as well. A knife and cutting board, mortar and pestle, and a vial of some sort of liquid were all laid out there.
Someone else had been in the house as I slept.
Uneasy, I crept farther into the room, listening for any unusual noises, though in such an unfamiliar place, how would I know what was unusual? Aside from the muffled stirrings of the elk down the hall, there wasn’t a single sound I could detect. Such silence was unnerving. Even on the mildest mountain day, the wind always found a way to make itself heard.
I explored the entire kitchen, arming myself with a knife before checking the cold cellar. While the presence of smoked meats and cheeses was enough to shock me momentarily, I broke the trance and continued my search for the intruder. Hurrying, I went through every room except the locked one, enduring an indignant snort from the elk when I reached her.
“Don’t be cross with me.” I pointed the knife at her. “Someone else has been here.”
She set her head down and glared at me.
“You’re certain this place is yours? No one else lives here I should know about?”
Her response was a continued glare.
I stomped out of the room, further frustrated by her reticence. “So I’ll just ignore it and be killed in the dead of night, then. Got it. No need for concern.”
Back in the kitchen, I set the knife back on the cutting board with a thunk. As I scowled at the items there, I noticed a small piece of paper tucked under the foot of the mortar. Thinking it might hold some clue about who had left the spread, I unfolded the parchment.
6 blades of menras grass, chopped
Grind to paste
Add 3 drops whistlethorn oil
Blend with 1 thimbleful salutaris rose nectar
Apply to clean bandages and wrap afflicted area
It was a simple list of instructions and nothing more. I flipped the scrap over in case there was something else, but that was all I found. By all indications, it was meant for the elk, and was perhaps the reason I’d been directed to the kitchen. The recipe looked simple enough, and similar to remedies my mother used, with one exception. The salutaris rose was rare, and only found in the height of summer in dense forests that were nearly impassable to humans. Not only was it the dead of winter, but the nearest forest the rose grew in was a week’s journey from the mountain.
I considered the problem for a moment, noting the freshness of the menras grass. With such a bright green, it must’ve been newly cut. While the idea of taking anything from the enchanted garden at the end of the hall was disturbing, it stood to reason I might find what I needed there.
Knife in hand once more, I made my decision and headed for the garden. When the warm sunshine touched my hair, I looked up into the sky, closing my eyes in silent appreciation of the warmth. Birds sang in the trees, their songs unlike any of the mountain birds I was used to hearing. With a deep breath of the perfumed air, I set out on my quest.
A small path ran from the door into the garden, splitting and branching in various directions. At twenty feet, the first break came, an endless parade of vegetables and fruits to the left, flowers of every shape, size and color to the right. Straight ahead, stalks of grains and herbs lined the way. Seeing such abundance in so organized a manner was no less than magical. The amount of food only within eyesight could feed an entire village for a week.
I shook off my shock and headed right, down the path of flowers. After walking for over ten minutes, I came to the edge of a lake. On the far bank, a bush of pale blue roses grew: the salutaris rose. My recognition of the flower was strictly due to long winters and endless days of little to do. On many occasions, I busied myself with studying my mother’s small collection of books, most of which were guides to medicinal herbs and plants and their uses. After several hundred readings, I’d learned at least as much as I needed to prepare treatments for everything from fevers, to boils, to childbirth pains. At least, in theory I had. As isolated as my family was most of the time, I’d not had cause to use much of what I knew, especially since it was my mother that was the gifted healer among us.
My problem was no longer in locating the flowers, but how to get at them. What I thought was the far bank turned into a tiny island unreachable by foot. It occurred to me that the perception was another trick of whatever enchantment made the garden possible, but there was little use in being upset over it. As with the rest of life, adapting was the only way to get through a situation. And so, I looked for
a way to rise to the new challenge. Swimming was a possibility, though transporting the flowers back to shore would assuredly wash away the nectar within the blossoms. Perhaps if I had a raft…
The idea struck me so suddenly that I sprinted back down the dirt path. There in the hallway, the sled I’d used to transport the elk remained near her room where I’d abandoned it, my ax and pack still with it. Making quite the racket, I shouldered the pack, stuck the ax handle in my belt, and hauled the sled up on its side, wrangling it out to the garden. Once through the door, I dragged it behind me, back out to the lake where I set in to work.
As I’d not be hauling the elk back down the mountain, my first order of business was removing the rusty metal runners from the bottom by prying the nails away with the ax blade. Next came the pieces the yoke would attach to allow the reindeer to pull it. When all of the metal was stripped away, the sledge was no more than a wooden pallet with sides. I was fairly confident it would float, but as I had no experience with crafting boats, my efforts might’ve been a complete waste of time. For added insurance, I pulled the long rope from my pack and tied it to a thick tree. A low branch provided a makeshift paddle when I left the branches at the end intact, and the length of it would do well for guiding the raft to shore. After tying the other end of the rope to the side of the stripped-down sled, I pushed it into the water.
It bobbed for a moment, then settled above the surface of the water, surprising me only a little. With one hand on the rope, the other firmly gripping the branch paddle, I tested the load capacity. Gradually, it accepted my weight, and I pushed off from the shore, heading for the island. The farther out I went, the more nervous I became that something other than fish and turtles inhabited the lake. However, nothing presented itself, and I reached the rose bushes with only slightly soaked trousers to bother me.
I knew little to nothing of the salutaris rose’s properties. It was supposedly one of the most potent plants when it came to healing wounds. Looking at the razor sharp thorns coming from the black stems, however, I wondered if that wasn’t for good reason. Even the color of the plant, excepting the pale blue flowers, looked deadly. What more did I know about it? I was sure there was something, some warning, but I’d never given the entries on it more than cursory glances in my readings.
Still kneeling in the raft, I dug through my pack, pulling out the single set of spare clothing I’d brought with me. The soft suede of my trousers promised the most protection from the thorns, and I cut a leg off at the knee, wrapping it around my hand. Carefully, I grabbed the nearest bloom and held it closed. Knife in the other hand, I cut the stem below the head of the flower, sawing at it until it came free, though the stalk was so tough it took several minutes to do so.
I considered the freed rose, weighing how many I might need to fill a thimble with the nectar. A brief look within the petals revealed only a few drops at most, so I wedged the small bit of stem between two planks of the raft and went in for another.
Ten rose heads and an hour later, I decided it was enough. Though I’d been as careful as I could, I had two small scratches on the heel of my hand to show for my efforts. More tired and sore than when I’d started, I bundled the flowers so they sat upright, nestled them in my pack, and headed back across the lake.
Raft and paddle left where they’d be of most use had I need of them again, I started back down the garden path, heading towards the kitchen. I stopped along the way, turning down through the vegetables, and collected carrots and stalks of grains for the elk. Back in the kitchen, I followed the recipe to the letter and arranged everything on a silver tray. I laughed to myself. If the elk was going to act as royalty, I might as well treat her as such, albeit with a smirk.
“Now then, Your Highness,” I said as I entered with the tray, “your humble servant has returned with…”
I cleared my throat, trying to rid it of strange tightness. It passed after a moment, and I carried on, bringing my healer’s items to the bed and setting in to work. She kept calm through most of it, releasing only the barest of whines as I cleaned the torn flesh of her wound where bone had broken through skin. Gently, I rewrapped her foreleg with the treated bandages, tucking the loose end in closest to her body. The elk let out a breathy sigh of relief as she settled her head against the pillows, her eyes closing in sleep before I could even offer her food.
My job finished, I cleaned up and returned to the kitchen, desperately needing to see to my own empty stomach. Curiously, however, my appetite was not what I thought it would be, and after only half of the cooked eggs and ham I’d prepared, I set it aside in favor of water. I was parched far more than usual, but I decided it was likely because of the non-stop activity of the last twenty-four hours. But no matter how much water I drank, my thirst never abated.
Thinking to take my mind off of it, I wandered the house instead. The most obvious place to start felt like the library, mostly because I had high hopes for trying out the chair by the fire. The books held me captivated for the longest time, and I passed at least an hour reading titles alone. Tomes on everything from maps to history to adventure stories lined the walls of the study, but I finally settled on one.
The Care and Feeding of Dragons struck me as a strange addition to the collection. As far as I knew, there were no dragons in the world. Then again, up until the previous day, I wouldn’t have thought magical elks existed, either. And so, I settled myself into the chair by the fireplace for what would either be incredibly boring or astoundingly educational reading.
The book was divided into sections based on the different kingdoms, with several illustrated examples of the different types from each region. I flipped through the pages until something caught my eye.
There, in the Qilong section of the book, was a colorful drawing of a creature closely resembling the one I’d seen carved on the entrance into the rock. Its green scales glimmered with a golden sheen in the flickering firelight, its eyes as bright as the gemstone embedded in the stone outside. I stared at it, transfixed by the sight of the winged creature. I hadn’t noticed legs on the other, but the one on the page had four thin, yet muscular limbs protruding from its body.
I pulled my gaze away to read the accompanying text, but my vision blurred. A sudden throbbing in my skull caused me to set the book aside, thinking I’d simply been squinting at the words too hard. When that didn’t help, I thought perhaps to lay down, that my body was exhausted from so much exertion.
I stood to go to my room, but everything swayed around me. Stumbling, I made it as far as the hallway before fire erupted in my veins, sending me straight to the floor. I gasped to cry out, but my voice was impossibly weak. Even if I could call for help, who might hear it? I clawed my way down the hall, my sight growing darker by the second.
When the shadows closed in, I welcomed the respite from the pain.
Chapter 4
The voice came to me in feverish dreams, a shadowy blur through my misery.
“Be still,” she said, her words like soft music as they echoed in my ears. “It will pass.”
Nothing made sense as I wandered from one burning nightmare to the next. Snow like hot embers fell from the sky, leaving scorch marks on my skin. Landscapes were engulfed in fire as I ran through forests and plains, and entire rivers and lakes filled with flames. I chased specters, screaming for friends and family to run, to escape the conflagration, but my pleas and warnings were for naught. All I loved vanished into smoke as my own body fought to escape the torture.
The only time I found solace was when her words reached me through the haze. Like a lullaby, she soothed my fears. When she was there, something cool doused the flames, but without her, misery was all I knew. Desperate for her presence, I begged her not to leave. She stayed a little longer each time, but never long enough for me to find her face or know her for true.
My angel had no name.
I awoke in bed, unsure of how I’d gotten there or how long it had been. I felt weak, my body ravaged by whatever ill
ness I’d been fighting. Staring up at the smooth ceiling, I wondered if all of it had been a dream. Strange that I could still hear her voice. I couldn’t remember much of what she’d said, but the feel of her remained. My hand itched, and I lifted it to my face, stunned to find scars the shape of snowflakes in two lines across the heel of my palm.
Where the roses had scratched me.
Was it poison then, and not sickness that put me in such a state? If so, what madness had it caused? What was real and what imagined?
I sat up suddenly, worry overtaking my other concerns. Jumping from bed, I ran to the next room. What had become of the elk in my absence?
She lifted her head at my frantic entrance, looking mildly amused at my harried state.
“How are you? Thirsty? Hungry? In pain? I’ll see to it all immediately. I can’t imagine what’s happened since—”
I stopped my flustered tirade and stared at her foreleg. Even though I must’ve been out for days, her bandages were clean and fresh. For a moment, I wondered if my estimation of passed time was wrong, but the wrappings were tucked in at the bottom of the leg, rather than at the top where I was sure I’d secured them.
“Someone else was here, weren’t they?” I asked, incredulous. “Who was it?”
She laid her head down with a huff and closed her eyes.
I knelt by the bed, my face level with hers. “Please, I’d like to know. She saved my life, and I’d thank her. I’m in her debt.”
Without her looking up, a door out in the hall banged open with her snuffle.
“I don’t know why you’re so insistent on keeping this from me,” I said, standing. “You know I’d not bring you harm. If it’s this other you fear, although I’d be hesitant to use violence against her now, I will protect you from her if I can. I’m not your enemy.”
Ride the Wind: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales Book 3) Page 3