“I—you made me a firebird!” she exclaimed in delight. “You made me a firebird! Is this permanent?”
“Unfortunately, yes, I’m sorry,” Jimson said apologetically. “There was no time to do anything reversible.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry! I’m not!” The bird lifted her head and gave vent to a joyous trill. If anything her singing was sweeter. “I don’t mind dodging a few feather hunters to be able to look like this! Do I turn into a human girl, too?”
Jimson shook his head. “Unfortunately, no, I’m—”
She caroled with delight. “Even better! No clumsy old men wanting to marry me and sending people to catch me so they can!”
Jimson coughed. Evidently he had not anticipated how pleased she would be. “Erm, well, good. I’m glad you approve. I apologize that we did this, but Siegfried may need your new powers when—”
“Siegfwied! Siegfwied! Wait!”
Once again, Jimson was interrupted. This time it was from a bell-like voice that rang through the forest. The face in the mirror looked frustrated, then resigned. “You had better deal with that,” he said. “I’ll talk to your bird while you do.”
The bird hopped down onto the horse’s rump and stuck her head into the bag. Muted mumbling came from it.
“Siegfwied!” A crystalline horn shoved the undergrowth aside, and to Siegfried’s dismay, though not his surprise, the unicorn leapt through the gap. “Heah I am!”
Oh, no—
“Luna, we’re going into danger,” he said, as gently as he could. “We don—”
“I know!” said the unicorn, stamping one hoof impatiently in the dead leaves. “I aweady know that! I’m coming wif you!”
Siegfried’s mouth opened and closed several times without being able to get a word out. This was going to be dangerous…and Luna was such a delicate little thing. She would probably be more hindrance than help, but how to tell her to go without crushing her? Leopold said it for him.
“Uh, pardon, unicorn—”
“Luna,” said the unicorn.
Leopold flushed, and tried to find the same words that Siegfried had been unable to muster. “Luna then—you don’t—I mean, it’s very sweet that you want to help, but I don’t know how you could—we’re going to be fi—”
It seemed that being interrupted was the order of the day. Leopold’s words stuck in his throat, as Luna reared up, lashed the air a fraction of an inch from his left ear with her forehooves, pivoted before he could wince away, sent her rear hooves flying through the air a hairbreadth above his right shoulder and pivoted a second time to drive her horn deep into the trunk of a tree just under his right arm. She wrenched it loose with a splintering and creaking of wood, then stood back from him, lashing her tail triumphantly.
It was Leopold’s turn to stare with his eyes gone round and his mouth open, and Siegfried was in almost as much shock.
Siegfried cleared his throat carefully.
But Luna wasn’t done yet. Still swishing her tail, she trotted down to the little pond they had all been drinking from. She knelt beside it and dipped her horn in the water.
Something like softened lightning laced across the surface of the pond as the tip of her horn touched the water. When she stood up, the water, which had been a little murky and green with algae, was now crystal clear.
“Dwink fwom that,” she said imperiously.
Without hesitation, Siegfried, the horses and the bear all did. Leopold waited a moment, then, when Luna’s eye flashed angrily at his hesitation, he gulped and joined them.
The moment that the first sweet drop slipped down Siegfried’s throat, he started to feel energized. By the time he had finished drinking his fill, all his energy had been restored, and more energy heaped atop that. He had never felt so good in his life. Looking at the others, he could see that they felt the same.
“I will do that each time we stop,” Luna said with a toss of her horn. “I can heal you. I can make you feel good. I can fight! You can’t do wifout me.”
“You are right, Luna.” Siegfried caressed her neck, and her eyes softened with infatuation. “We need you. But it’s very dangerous—”
“I know,” she said again. “I know. You think I don’t but I do! Wosamund is in the hands of the Huntsman. He has murdered many of my bwovvers and was twying to murder me. I am coming because I wove you. I am coming because Wosamund needs us. But I am also coming for me. For my own weason.” Her eyes flashed silver. “I am coming for wevenge.”
Somehow, even with her lisp, she did not sound ridiculous anymore.
20
THE SECOND-FLOOR ROOM OF THE SORCERER’S stone tower was, for the moment, still. As Rosa had guessed, Desmond was what Godmother Lily had called a “ritualist.” He probably didn’t have more than a few simple things memorized, and he managed all of his magic by repeating, with painful exactitude, what he had written out in his “grimoire,” or spell-book. Everything in this tower room—at least, everything that she could actually see—had been carefully positioned. There was a long, waist-high cabinet behind him; on it were a candlestick and his sword, which he had spent some time positioning. He had taken various things from the drawers with each spell, and put them back when he was done. To her right was the hole in the floor that gave access to the staircase. To her far right was another cabinet with another candlestick. To her left, the same. Circles had been inlaid in the stone of the floor, and symbols inlaid inside the circles. As he had worked, he had walked around her, chanted, burned various incenses and done things behind her that, from the sounds that she had heard, she was rather glad she hadn’t been able to see. He had almost certainly killed several small animals after torturing them. It all turned her stomach.
At least she had found out all this before he had won the contest. She was almost certain that he would, indeed, have won. If he hadn’t done so legitimately, he’d have found a way….
Then again, this was probably the way that he had found.
Bah.
And it was obvious that he could not see magic as she could—or sense it in any other way, except when the spells were completed and he got the results he was looking for, or when the spells themselves caused effects that anyone could see. If he had been able to, he would have known by now how much she was interfering.
“You returned sooner than I expected, sire,” the Huntsman said, as Desmond paused between spells. The Huntsman might well have been thought handsome by some, if it had not been for the coldness of his expression. Facially, he could have been Desmond’s relative.
Perhaps he was. It would not be the first time that a bastard son had ended up as the legitimate son’s right hand.
Rosa could tell that Desmond was between spells, because the woven bands of sinister murky-yellow magic around her were—well, finished off was the best way she could describe it. The ends were precisely tucked in and the whole looked neat and complete. Desmond really was a patient and thorough sorcerer. He had pronounced each syllable of the spell exactly, had been painstaking with his diagrams and had taken his time over it.
He was not, however, as observant a sorcerer as he was patient, or he would have noticed that she was not as bound as she should have been. No sooner had he finished the work, than she began unpicking it, having paid careful attention to where those ends were tucked in. The necklace of unicorn hair kept the things from affecting her, and once she started unpicking them, well they might just as well have not been there. The magic wasn’t that hard to break when you could see it. She wondered if he had any idea that there were magicians who could see magic, and just undo so easily what he did. If he didn’t—he was probably thinking smugly that unless someone knew the spells he had been working, it would be impossible to get her free of them.
Ha.
“Someone saw us taking the girl,” was the terse reply, as he leafed through his book. “The entire Palace was aroused. I couldn’t even take a horse from the stables for my return journey. I had to steal one from outside.
”
Oh, that made him angry. He wasn’t counting on his plans being disrupted.
The Huntsman’s frown deepened. “Is that likely to be a problem for you, sire? If they send out searches, which I am sure they will—”
Desmond laughed. Clearly he had no idea the resources that the Godmother could call up. Which actually relieved Rosa; she was a lot happier with the idea that he was overconfident. “Not likely. The wretched Dwarves kept this place a secret even from their own kin. I doubt that they will muster a search that goes beyond the city very soon.”
“They could track you,” the Huntsman said, looking dubious. “You will have left a scent.”
Desmond shrugged. “I will grant you that Queen Sable is a clever woman, but even if they can get your hounds to obey without you being present, do you think they could track us all the way here?”
The Huntsman shook his head after considering this. “The trail will be cold and muddled by the time they get the hounds to track, and it is too far. You cannot keep them on a cold track forever, especially if I am not there.”
Unless, of course, you are a Godmother who knows Magic Beasts, she thought angrily. Then—well I don’t know what she can do, but I imagine that she can persuade them.
“What about the Godmother?” the Huntsman asked. “She’s the one who rescued the Princess the last time.”
Desmond smirked. “She has to be able to find the girl in the first place. I have made sure no one can scry what is in this tower. Perhaps she is clever enough to realize that a place so warded must have something interesting in it, but I doubt it. She is only a woman. But even if she does, she has to get here. Then she will have to fight through my defenses. Godmothers are many things, but I have never heard that they are adept at combative magic, and certainly not at physical fighting.”
The Huntsman nodded, and Rosa wanted to slap the self-satisfied looks off both their faces. Only a woman! She’s cleverer than both of you put together—which is just not that hard. And combat? She’ll bring help. When Siegfried gets here—and he will get here—I hope you remember that he’s bested you in combat at least once.
That is, assuming she left enough for Siegfried to fight once she got loose. Right now she was angry enough to tear Desmond’s handsome head off his body and stuff it down his neck.
She used that anger, just as Siegfried had taught her, as the lever to pry the magic encircling her apart. She had left the paralysis magic alone for now, since it was loosened, and it would take no effort at all and little time to unravel it. She was more concerned with the things Desmond was concocting that were designed to manipulate her mind and emotions. Those were the things that most worried her. The necklace kept them from touching her but only because of the faint taint of evil about them. If he used something that hadn’t come from a tainted source…
Well, so far, he hadn’t. She just hoped that her luck would continue in that regard.
The wolf still had the trail. Siegfried only hoped their luck would continue in that regard. If it had not been for Luna, they could never have pressed on as fast as they had, but they had still been pushing through the forest for most of the day. He was beginning to think that they would have to find a place to camp for the night—which would not be good—when the bear threw up his head and stopped.
“The wolf is near,” he said. Then he took a deep breath and let out a roar to signal to the wolf that they were close behind.
Every hair on the back of the bear’s neck stood up when he roared…and every hair on Siegfried’s body did the same. He had never been this close to a bear when it made a noise like that—the bear he had killed as a child had been too busy fighting him off to make anything other than growls. The sound actually vibrated Siegfried’s chest and awoke a deep and primitive fear in his gut. It made his heart suddenly race, and from the way that the horses jumped and Leopold’s eyes widened, it did the same to the others. Even the bird fluttered her bright new wings nervously. Only Luna was unaffected.
A howl in the distance answered the roar.
“Uh, won’t that tell Desmond that we’re out here?” Leopold asked, patting his horse’s neck to try to calm it.
“It will tell Desmond that there are animals out here,” Siegfried replied. “And this is a forest, after all. One would expect animals in a forest. I doubt he would recognize that the wolf is answering the bear.”
“But the Huntsman—”
“The Huntsman will expect animals to behave as wild animals usually do.” Of that much Siegfried was certain. “Wolves and bears don’t work together. If anything, he’ll assume that one challenged the other.”
Since the bear wasn’t moving, they all waited patiently; evidently the wolf was going to come to them. Now that they had stopped moving, Siegfried was very conscious of the forest around them. The presence of the bear was probably keeping most of the wildlife nearby very quiet. Bears were known to eat whatever they could catch, after all. But in the middle distance, there were rustlings and the occasional call and the even more occasional sound of something falling from the trees. There was a great deal of birdsong, above and around them. This was a very, very old forest, as evidenced by the girth of the trees; late-afternoon sunlight pierced the thick canopy from above, making slender shafts of light that only served to emphasize how gloomy it was beneath the branches. In fact, he realized he’d passed this way when he first arrived in the Kingdom.
“So I had this idea,” he said quietly to the bird. “Dragons. Are there a lot of good dragons out there? All I ever saw were the killers. And Sharpstone…”
“Lots,” the bird replied, looking at him as if he had lost his mind. “But is this the time—“
“And what do dragons need besides their hoards?” he persisted.
“Safe lairs and lots of food they don’t have to risk their necks for. Sometimes the Godmothers can help with that. But we haven’t time to wait for Godmother Lily to fetch a dragon!” The bird fluttered her magnificent wings.
“That’s all I need to know.” The idea was forming up quickly in his mind. If they rescued Rosa—
When they rescued Rosa, damn it all! They would! He had to! He was not going to let that damned fop Desmond take her!
Just as he was wondering exactly how near the wolf was, the animal himself pushed his way through some bushes to the side of the path. He looked up at Siegfried, but there was no sign of good news in his scarred face.
“The foul one is clever, BigMan,” the wolf said. “First, he cleared back the forest. Then he has put some sort of bad magic between the forest and the stone place he built in that clear place. Then he made a terrible thorn tangle to grow about the stone place. All that is before you even enter it.”
“But the Princess is there, right?” he asked, as Leopold fidgeted, looking baffled.
“Oh, yes. I smell her.” The wolf paused. “The bad magic smells like bones and dragons.”
Well that didn’t sound any notes of recognition. He turned to Luna, the bird and Leopold. “The wolf says there is magic that smells like bones and dragons. Does that mean anything to any of you?”
“Not me, I don’t know much of anything about magic,” Leopold replied.
The others were still shaking their heads when Jimson’s muffled voice came from the saddlebag. “The Children of the Dragon’s Teeth.”
Siegfried twisted around and flipped back the flap. “The what?” he asked, looking down into the dark bag.
“The Children of the Dragon’s Teeth. Rather nasty, dark-tainted magic. Necromancy, of a sort.” The green face looked up at him. “The spell is called ‘The Children of the Dragon’s Teeth,’ but in actuality, the sorcerer in question sows the finger-bones of warriors in the ground. When the ground is trodden upon, the warriors spring up out of it to fight. Or rather, their skeletons do. Of course, they can’t be killed in the usual manner.”
“That…doesn’t sound good.” Leopold frowned.
“Well, it’s not, if you go in t
here in the usual manner!” Jimson snapped, sounding exasperated. “Don’t slash or stab at them, break them apart. Staves, clubs, the flat of your sword, shield bashing—” He looked up at Siegfried again, clearly impatient. “You’re a barbarian, that sort of thing ought to be natural to you!”
“I’m not—” Siegfried began, feeling insulted. But Jimson was already gone. The mirror was blank again.
“We can help you in this, BigMan,” the bear said, and the wolf nodded his head. “That sort of fighting is natural to me, and the wolf can break their leg bones with a snap. They cannot fight if they cannot stand.” Siegfried was not too certain of that last, but the first—oh, yes. He had seen bears fight. And this one was huge. He didn’t think that there was a warrior born who had the reach of this bear.
“All right then. Take us there, brother wolf. And my thanks to both of you.”
“We told you we would not forget your kindness,” the bear said gravely. The wolf made a whuffing sound, and turned to lead them in.
They stopped at the edge of the cleared area—and the wolf had been less than accurate when he said “cleared.” The trees, the bushes, everything had been taken down to the bare soil, and the soil itself had been plowed up. Mindful of what Jimson had told them, Siegfried took all four mirrors out and placed them faceup on the ground. Then he and Leopold armored up, Leopold pausing to cut himself a stave rather than using his sword.
Siegfried looked at the bird and Luna. “I think you had better stay back,” he said, cautiously. “You two are not well suited for fighting something like this. Luna, I think they will stay well away from you, so I would appreciate it if you would guard the mirrors, the horses and the bird.”
The bird trilled agreement. Somewhat reluctantly, Luna bobbed her head. He looked over at Leopold, who nodded.
“Try to stay back-to-back,” he said. “I don’t think these things will be like living fighters. I think they will just keep throwing themselves at us until they are all in bits. If we can keep our backs protected, we can just let them do that.”
The Sleeping Beauty Page 29