by Zoe Marriott
I stopped and thought. “She must have a talisman. A magical object to keep her shape-changing spells confined within.”
“A talisman?”
“What object?”
“I don’t know.” I rubbed my forehead tiredly. “It could be anything. But since she came here with only the clothes on her back, it must be something small, something she can hold or conceal. Perhaps a ring? And she will keep it close to her at all times. If it were destroyed she would be forced to revert to her true form.”
David nodded decisively. “And even Father couldn’t be blind to that. Somehow we must find this talisman.” He paused, and then said thoughtfully, “Father intends to marry her in three days, but until they are wed she sleeps alone. Could we steal into her bedchamber while she sleeps and search for it?”
“What if she were to wake?” Hugh asked.
“It’s too dangerous,” said Robin, shaking his head. “Perhaps we could trick it from her?”
“No trick would make her give it up. She will always be aware of it, guarding it – except when she sleeps.” I sat up straight. “I think I know a way to lessen the danger. Mama sometimes made up strong vapours that would send the gravely injured into a deep sleep so that the body could heal. If I made an infusion and it was placed in her room just after she fell asleep, the vapours would steal into her nose and throat and make her slumber so deeply that she would not wake even if you shook her. To search the room we would have to cover our own faces with cloths dipped in water – and be quick, for the vapours would, even so, affect us in less than half an hour.”
“How will we recognize the talisman?” asked Hugh.
“I’ll feel it. Don’t worry about that.”
The earliest the required potion could be prepared was the next night and we decided that we should put our plans into action as soon as it was ready.
Perhaps we should have waited, planned more thoroughly; but unspoken between us was the knowledge that time was slipping away faster than we could see. If we did not act soon, it would be too late.
Night had fallen. The powerful mixture of herbs and dried plants was ready, as were the cloths to cover our faces. Zella, with a very pretty curtsy, had pleaded tiredness and left the long hall for her bedchamber nearly an hour ago. All that day my brothers and I had watched her dominion over the household tighten. It seemed that Father fell more and more deeply under her spell every instant.
Preparations for their marriage were well in hand. The women of the household chattered and giggled, almost insensible with excitement at the prospect. The grey and black of mourning that they had all been wearing was packed away and forgotten, replaced by the brightness of summer gowns. New maids and servants were already being summoned from the outlying villages to help with the massive event, for Father wanted to claim his new bride before the whole of the Kingdom.
Through it all Zella smiled sweetly, her dark eyes flat and unblinking, even as she managed a charming blush at my father’s touch on her arm.
Our resolve could be no stronger. It was time.
I gave Robin the ceramic vapour dish with its mesh lid and instructed him how to light it so that the distilled herbs would burn and the vapours would spill out. He was the most sure-footed of us, and would have the task of placing the dish in the chamber.
The muffled sound of our steps seemed unbearably loud as we made our way down the corridor. The passage was deserted, and a disconsolate silence lay over the Hall, though it was barely midnight. No one bothered staying awake after Zella had retired. What would be the point?
We reached the end of the passage in which Zella’s chamber lay without seeing another soul. This was as we had hoped; yet the sensation of moving through an abandoned place made me shiver.
I reached up to tie one of the dampened cloths over Robin’s face, fussing with the knot until he brushed my hands away. “Leave it,” he whispered.
We clustered round the door, listening for any sound within. I did not dare reach into her room through the enaid in case she felt my encroachment and woke. We still had so little idea of the extent of her powers. I could feel her there, the high-pitched buzz of her presence like the whine of a maddened wasp; but the noise seemed subdued – not active.
“Very well,” I whispered finally. “Open the door.”
We stood back as Robin crouched below the handle, reaching up with his free hand to ease it down. He held the door as it opened slightly, pressing his eye to the gap. We waited for another moment, then he looked at us and nodded. He slid through the gap and into the darkness beyond.
I pressed myself against the wall next to the door, as if by willpower I might be able to see through it, and held my breath; but, only a few seconds later, he emerged and gently shut the door behind him.
“She was asleep. I did as you said, Alexa.”
“Then we wait,” I said.
We huddled round the entrance, stiff with tension and praying that no one would come this way and disturb us. The irony of our stealing about like thieves in our own home did not escape us, but we did not know if the household people would defend Zella against us. Had her power gone that deep? The thought of our own people turning on us was so alien that it made me feel sick, but the possibility could not be discounted. Both David and Robin had stout cudgels pushed into their belts, and Hugh his dagger. If we were successful tonight, they would never have to use them.
Eventually I judged that enough time had passed and nodded. We tied the cloths around our faces and opened the door. David went first, nodding that it was all right to follow before he disappeared inside. Robin kept me firmly behind him as he followed Hugh. Once we were all in, David closed the door.
The room was filled with a looming darkness that the dim starlight, falling from the windows opposite, did little to dispel. For a moment we remained together by the door, staring at our tormentor.
Unsurprisingly, Zella had been given the finest room in the Hall. Many years ago, when the ruler of the principality bordering us – Midland – had visited, he had been given this chamber and had expressed his pleasure with it. The greatest glory was the bed. Placed in the centre of the room, it was made of ancient black oak, sunk beautifully into the floor, its four thick posts hung with red and gold draperies. The plentiful cloth hid Zella completely from view.
The scent of the infusion that burned beside the bed, heady even through the cloth tied over my nose and mouth, recalled me to our task. I glanced at my brothers and gestured for them to separate and search. We could not risk lingering. As they scattered to look in the chests and closets, I approached the bed. I had not told my brothers the one fear I had which might ruin our plan: that Zella might sleep with the talisman, whatever it was, clutched tight in her hand. If that were the case then one of us would need to brave the bed to get it, if indeed it could be got.
I hesitated beside the drapes, shuddering as I heard the low hiss of breath issuing from beneath them. It sounded unnervingly like the noise of a snake. The high, irritating buzz of her power made it more difficult than I had thought to locate any separate aura, such as the one a talisman might emit.
I had to get closer.
Carefully I ducked under the nearest swathe of gold fabric and kneeled next to the bed. Zella lay at the exact centre of the mattress, surrounded by a tangled nest of cushions, furs and blankets. She was curled into a tiny ball with her knees drawn up to her chest and her face turned away from me. Her position reminded me of a wild creature. The vibration of power around her seemed dormant; but somehow in sleep it was stronger, as if in private she felt no need to restrain it. I could see the sheen of her hair as it spilled over the heaped pillows, and the smooth texture of the skin on the nape of her neck. The hiss of her breath was louder beneath the roof of cloth. Every fine hair on my body was standing up, my muscles quivering, my breathing coming in quick, shallow puffs.
Then my attention was caught by something. Zella’s tiny, delicate feet were not hidden under the masses
of bedding that covered the rest of her; they poked out from beneath a dark fur, with only a swirl of filmy bronze fabric tucked around them. I recognized that fabric. It was the same dress she had worn when Father carried her into the Hall the first time.
My brow wrinkled. Why, with all the fine laces and muslins that must have been offered to her, would she choose to sleep in that? Taking my courage firmly in hand, I reached out and caught one edge of the fabric and gently, gently, tugged it out from around her feet, keeping my eyes all the while on her back. She did not stir. Encouraged, I lifted up the dark fur and carefully pushed it aside, then took hold of a little more of the bronze material and pulled it free. Slowly I managed to free the whole hem of the garment and, forcing my hands to steadiness so that they would not so much as brush her skin, ran my fingers along it. Where the seam ran down the dress and met the one around the bottom, I found it.
It was a lump, slightly too big and too heavy to be mere clumsy stitching. When I touched it I felt a low hum of power, contained and even, like a carefully woven working should be. I wormed one of my fingers into the stitching and ripped it open in a single movement.
A tiny pebble dropped into my hand, nothing more than a river stone, worn smooth by rushing water. It was oval, dark grey, with a jagged line of white quartz crossing its centre. It pulsed in my palm like a miniature heart, making my fingers twitch and shake as they closed over it. Then there was a blast of bloody red light from the pebble. It jumped from my hand like a living thing and landed on Zella’s neck, scurrying across her cheek to her face.
I was up and a foot away from the bed before I even realized I’d moved, opening my mouth to shout. But it was already too late. The buzz of Zella’s power shifted into a high-pitched shriek of rage.
Red light exploded through the room. There was a concussion that shook the walls, made the ground itself heave, and I screamed in agony. Ancestors, the pain… The bones in my head seemed to splinter and the fragments pierce my brain. I collapsed, paralysed, as my mind flooded with horrific images – like a nightmare, except that I knew what I saw was real, was truly happening, as I lay helpless to prevent it.
I saw my brothers’ faces twist and melt, saw them warped and misshapen, their skin bubbling, their bodies mutilated and broken, heard them screaming and the crack of their bones as Zella tortured them. I tried to reach into the enaid, tried to find some power to protect them, but I could not find the tide; the red power held it away. I reached out desperately and closed the fingers of my mind over my brothers’ dying bodies.
There was a burst of pale light and they were gone, hidden from me. As their voices faded to silence I saw great white things – like clouds – soaring away into the sky. Birds, I realized as their massive wings pounded the air. Swans…
In the few seconds before darkness claimed me, the wing beats seemed to echo the rhythm of my heart.
CHAPTER SIX
I drifted in a numbing darkness, weary beyond belief. In the darkness I heard voices murmuring, felt the touch of rain, smelled the sweet, intoxicating scent of roses and tasted salt; but I understood none of it.
Occasionally I would see light, and move painstakingly towards it. If I reached it before it disappeared, I would find myself back in my body, aching and weighed down by my own limbs. Perhaps I stirred or moaned, for whenever I forced open my eyes, indistinct faces would hover over me. But they were not my brothers. And then would come the sharp, bitter smell of herbs as something burning was poured into my mouth. I would choke as it slid down, then find myself back in the darkness.
It was the cool, sweet breeze blowing across my face that finally woke me. I was being rocked gently as I lay, and my breath ruffled the fluffy wool beneath my cheek so that it tickled my lips.
For a few minutes these physical sensations were enough; I was happy to curl into the warmth of the blankets wrapped around me and savour the good smell of the air. But eventually sounds began to penetrate my lethargy. The jingle of bit and harness, the thud and bump of wheels rumbling over the ground and the ricket and squeak of a wooden trap; and, with them, the slow seep of memory.
I lay still, my not quite alert mind turning over all that had occurred, trying to fit it together, until the importance of one question became paramount.
Where was I?
With weary, creaking movements that cost a frightening amount of energy, I wriggled over onto my back. I thought I saw something in the sky, a flock of great birds – swans or geese – their wings shadowed against the clouds; but before I could focus on them, they were gone. I reached up a leaden hand to grip the wooden rail and tried to pull myself up, my strength failed me halfway and I collapsed back onto the seat.
The sound of my efforts attracted the attention of the person driving the little wagon; the rocking motion slowed to a gentle halt, and a blissfully familiar face appeared. It was John, one of the household people, whom I had known all my life.
“Ah – thee’s awake at last. Hold there, Lady, I’ll be with you in no time.” He tied up the reins and clambered into the back of the trap.
“Where…” My voice was hoarse and gruff, and I had to stop and swallow before I could begin again. “Where am I?”
“Best have a drink and something to eat first, Lady. You’ll feel better for it.” He rummaged under the seat, pulling out a large basket from which he took cold cheese-stuffed potatoes, apple pasties, bread and a flask of small beer.
As the smell of food reached me my stomach let out a prolonged rumble and I realized I was famished. John saw my hungry look and passed me an apple pasty before slicing up the potatoes and bread.
“There now, it’s a right lovely thing to see you eating again. You’ve even got roses in your cheeks.”
I was too busy devouring the food to reply. I gulped the beer so quickly that I choked. Why was I so hungry and thirsty?
As soon as the last mouthful was swallowed, I drew the blankets close around me and fixed John with a severe look. “Now, where am I? What has happened?”
“Well, we’re in Southfield. And you’ve been ill – ‘tis no wonder you’re as weak as a kitten.”
“Ill?” I searched my memory. I remembered entering Zella’s room and finding the talisman. There had been a warning spell on it, and it had got away from me. Then everything became blurry. I could remember the flash of red light, and dreadful pain … and something white, something like clouds – but nothing else. Nothing that made sense. It was all like a nightmare. “For how long?”
“Nearly three days. You could barely open your eyes.”
Three days since that night? I took a deep breath. “What happened to my brothers?”
John’s pleasant face hardened into grim lines. “Them three.” He spat. “Don’t you be worrying about them. They won’t be troubling the Kingdom again.”
I was stunned. My brothers had always been friends to this man, helping him in the barn from toddling age. He’d put them on their first mounts. That he should speak their names with such dislike…
“John, tell me what has happened.”
“Now, Lady—”
“Immediately, John!” I hit the bench with my hand, making an unimpressive thud. Ancestors, I was so weak!
“It’ll pain you to hear it, and I’m sorry. They were caught in Lady Zella’s room. They were trying to hurt her. Poor girl – nearly beside herself with fright, she was. Dreadful.”
“What happened to them?” I demanded impatiently.
“Banished, Lady. The king exiled ‘em. Course, I weren’t there myself, but there was all that commotion up at the Hall, and the next thing we knew there was you and Lady Zella both taken to your beds and the king storming up and down saying that if he ever set eyes on any of your brothers again he’d kill them himself. Can’t say as I blame him.”
I can, I thought bitterly. Banished his own sons – his own blood. The stupid, blind fool. I bit my lip. They were all right. They were. I’d know in my heart if they were gone; know in my flesh and
bones. Besides, Father would not have taken the trouble to banish them otherwise. So they were out there somewhere, and if they possibly could, they would find me. It might take time, but they’d search until we were together again. They’d never leave me alone. Never.
“Are you feeling well, Lady? Would you like some of Lady Zella’s medicine?”
I blinked and looked at John again. He had taken a stoppered bottle from the basket, and uncorked it as I watched. The bitter scent of half moss and crowberries reached my nose. It was the smell of a powerful sleeping draught, a potion to dull the mind and befuddle the senses.
“Medicine?” I murmured.
“Lady Zella made it for you with her own hands. She gave it to you herself too, even though you didn’t wake properly. Ever so concerned for you, she was.”
Oh, yes – very concerned. That devious witch. No wonder I was as weak as an invalid. Enough of that potion and I would never have woken. For a fleeting moment I wondered why she hadn’t done just that – fed me the stuff until I died. But perhaps she only needed me out of the way for a short while.
“No, John, thank you. I don’t need any more medicine,” I said absently as he offered me the bottle. What was Zella up to? “Where are we going, John?”
“Didn’t I say, Lady? I’m taking you to Midland, to stay with your aunt, your mother’s sister.”
“Who – what? My aunt?”
My mother had hardly ever spoken of her elder sister and I’d certainly never met the woman. Long before I was born she had married a nobleman from the neighbouring kingdom, Midland, and she had never visited her old home.
“Why?” I asked incredulously.
“For you to get better, Lady,” said John. “Lady Zella said that you needed peace and quiet to heal, and what with all the hustle and bustle, you’d never get it at the Hall. So the king said he’d send a messenger to your aunt and you could stay there until you were better.”