by Неизвестный
When the herbs had reached the desired consistency, she put aside her pestle. Taking up the bowl, she approached the first row of statues. She sprinkled a small amount of the herbs over their little stone heads. As she moved along the rows, she spoke her incantation.
Goddess of dark and light,
Upon my death, set this wrong right.
Break this curse and set them free,
For now, forever, so mote it be.
She repeated the incantation several more times as she worked her way around the room, taking care to not miss a single stone creature. When she was done, she placed her empty bowl on the workbench.
In less than an hour, she would be dead and these men would resume their physical form. Both her curse and theirs would be ended. She cast a final glance at the two statues of Ran and Nikolaz. Shoving her regret into a corner of her heart, she turned to the cupboard where she stored her clothing.
From the depths of the narrow space, she retrieved a floor length, white beaded gown. Her mother's wedding gown. With great reverence, in the flickering light of the low fire, the material glowed with an unearthly sheen. It was surprisingly heavy and she ran her fingertips over the myriad of pearl and glass beads that covered the dress.
If she wasn't mistaken, the Wood Elves of Siravar to the north, the people of her mother's line, had made the material. Her mother had told her on many occasions that when she was cast from the tribe, she'd taken only the material, her hunting bow and the silver crown that now rested on Nia's head. She'd never seen any of her kin in all her years, but Nia had seen fine elven material before. If she wasn't mistaken, this was some of the finest.
Shedding her simple cotton gown, she pulled the wedding dress over her nude body. Her mother had made the dress in the hopes that Nia's father would marry her, but instead Nia's mother had been rejected. Love had turned its back on Kara twice as it had her daughter. Her mother had never worn the gown, but her daughter would.
Nia straightened her shoulders and tilted up her chin. Instead of wearing the gown to her wedding, she would wear it to her death.
Turning away from their staring stone eyes, Nia felt a sharp pang as she exited the cabin. She was angry that her life was ending like this. As a child, she'd had such high hopes for life, love and a family. Instead she was doomed to carry the curse of a bitter man who'd mistakenly believed himself wronged. Turning away from his own true love, her father had destroyed so many lives.
The ground underneath her bare feet was wet, the grass springy and soft. The rain had slowed and she let her head fall back to receive the caress of the earth mother's precious gift one last time.
Over the years, she'd tried to kill herself twice before. Each time she'd awoken from her folly to find herself hail and disgustingly hearty.
But this time would be different. She could feel it.
At the far end of the clearing was a narrow line of trees and beyond them were the forbidding cliffs of Maragorn. Just past the trees, the grass faded to sparse weed then nothing but the rocky edges of cliffs paved the way. The wind blowing in from the sea tugged at her gown as she beheld the stormy gray of the ocean before her.
The cliffs were sheer, flat rock walls for hundreds of feet with the ocean roiling amongst large boulders at the bottom. Once she fell, there was no way to scale the cliffs and her body would be pulled out to sea. She would find her peace in the ocean's embrace.
Nia lifted her gaze to the heavens. Images filtered through her mind, the names and faces of hundreds of people she'd known. Her mother's beloved face came first, then was followed by each of the people she'd treated over the years. No matter how cursed her life had been; she'd saved the lives of thousands with a mixture of elven magic and her herbal healing skills. That was reward enough. She'd done well and now it was time to rest. She was weary, unutterably weary.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped to the edge. Drawing a cloak of serenity around her, she closed her eyes.
Freedom...
She lifted her foot and her body swayed with the breeze. She lost herself in the peaceful embrace of her pending death, when the sound of a man's gruff voice shattered her serenity.
"'E went this away."
Startled, Nia's eyes flew open. Who would dare to come to this lonely place and interrupt her death? For the most part, people didn't come to Maragorn unless they were seeking her help.
"Why would 'e come this way? Everyone knows the Witch of Maragorn lives yonder. This place is cursed."The last was said in a loud hiss.
Nia stomped her foot as she scowled in the direction of the voices. Cursed? Little did this blathering fool know about curses, but she'd be sure to show him. Education was the path to enlightenment and she was about to educate this trespasser. She turned in time to see a man stumble through the trees toward her.
He was a big man, tall and broad, his hair darkened by the rain. He wore black from head to toe with a gold link belt around his waist. This was no common hunter, his belt alone proclaimed him to be a man of worth. His garments were mud-splattered and, in his right hand, he carried a massive sword. Her eyes widened when she recognized blood coating the blade.
His face was deathly pale and his eyes were midnight blue against his unnatural pallor. He caught sight of her and swayed before falling to his knees almost at her feet.
"Please, milady,"he gasped. "Help me."
Nia ran forward and caught him before he pitched face first onto the rocks. Staggering under his weight, she fell backward and his upper body landed across her legs, pinning her to the ground. She shifted beneath him and barely managed to maneuver him to his side.
She laid his head in her lap and sheltered his face from the soft rain with her bowed head. He was a handsome one. His hair was long, his features rugged. Thick lashes created shadows against his cheeks and his skin was cool to the touch. A scar marred his left temple and cheek. But, even with that blemish, he was a very handsome man. And his lips looked so... kissable...
Nia felt her gut clench and her breath left her in a rush. The urge to lean down and press her lips to his was overwhelming. To breath life into him or to feel his flesh against hers, she wasn't sure. Almost as if in a trance, her head descended to his.
"Wot's this?"
She'd been so engrossed in looking at the man, she'd neglected to listen for the owners of the voices she'd heard. Two stocky figures approached, their swords and shields in hand. They were barely as tall as she and dressed in dirty brown leather jerkins with darker brown clothing beneath and heavy laced boots.
Her eyes narrowed. They were dwarves.
"A woman in the woods?"said the first. His knotted, filthy beard wobbled with each word. "What do you suppose she's doing 'ere?"
"I dunno,"said the second. He had no beard though he was no less as filthy as the first.
The bearded one stepped forward. "Woman, what business 'ave you 'ere with our man?"
Nia's gaze flicked from one to another. Dwarves were, at best, full of bluster. The animosity between elves and dwarves had existed for centuries. The reason for the animosity was lost in the shadows of years long past. But Nia knew both she and her new patient could be in some danger if she made one wrong step.
She lowered the man's head to the ground, then rose to face the newcomers.
"I live in these woods."She linked her hands at her waist. "I must ask you what business you have here."
"Yew dunna live 'ere,"the second one said. "Only the Witch of the..."His voice trailed away as his eyes grew round.
Nia glanced from one to the other, allowing them to draw their own conclusions. The first one looked from the unconscious man, to her and then back again while the second took several steps back toward the safety of the dense woods.
"She-elf,"the first one spat. "We'll just take our friend and be gone."
"Indeed."Nia looked down at the man, seeing for the first time the large smear of blood on her dress and the sword wound on his side. "Your friend seems to be a bit ill- u
sed."
The dwarf gave a loud guffaw. "He ran afoul of some shady characters--"
"Helped along by you, no doubt. And this is why your sword is stained with blood?"She shot a pointed look at his sword. "You'll have to excuse me if I don't believe your tale. I think, if I were to compare his blood with that on your sword, they would match."
The false smile faded and his expression grew dark. "I dunna care what you think she-elf. Take your parlor tricks and be on your way as we'll be taking 'im with us."
"Branch--"the second man's voice held a note of warning.
Parlor tricks?
Nia pulled inward to concentrate on the beat of her heart. Once she had the rhythm firmly in her mind, she allowed it to expand throughout her being. With each thump, her physical body lengthened and she expanded. Within seconds she'd gone from just over five feet tall to well over eight feet.
"Dwarf, do you mistake me a mere conjurer of childish tricks? A jester like those at the markets who entertain the offspring?"Behind her, she heard a crack of thunder as black thunderheads rolled overhead. Within seconds, the landscape around them was as dark as night. "To do so will spell your dooommmmmmm."
"AHHHH!"The second dwarf screamed as he turned tail and ran into the woods as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. Branch's mouth dropped wide open as his bladder let loose and he urinated on the front of his grimy pants.
"I would suggest that you hasten back to whatever hovel you've come from."She towered over him, her nose wrinkling at the rancid smell of unkempt dwarf and fresh urine. She poked him in the chest with one finger and his sword hit a rock with a clang as he dropped it.
"Now,"she said.
He spun and ran, disappearing into the woods after his cowardly partner.
Nia covered her mouth lest her laughter be heard. The clouds departed as fast as they'd arrived, and she shook her head. Turning back to the unconscious man, she scooped him into her arms. In her enlarged form, she could easily carry a grown man.
After casting a mournful look at the sea, she headed in the direction of her cabin. It would appear that she had more work to do before she could take her leave.
* * *
When Ranulf opened his eyes, two things became abundantly clear--he was dead and he was in Ador, the underworld of the damned.
He blinked several times but the scene before him didn't change. He turned his head as much as his aching skull would allow, and the leering stone faces above him did not move. Weary, he closed his eyes to take stock of his situation.
Every inch of his body, from his toes to his eyebrows, hurt. He moved his arm experimentally and felt a sharp pull in his side that took his breath away. A dull throbbing on the side of his head was making him nauseous. But other than that litany of complaints, he felt good. He snorted with laughter and immediately regretted it as the sound rang through his abused skull.
Beneath him, he felt the comfort of a wide bed that crackled slightly as he moved. Spring grasses maybe?
What had happened to him? Vaguely, he remembered hunting in the forest alone. He'd sent his men back to the keep even though he'd known it was dangerous in this time of upheaval. But he'd been on his own land and had thought himself safe for a few hours at least. He'd wanted some time to himself and it was a rainy spring day, the kind he enjoyed.
He'd come across a stag near the falls. But, as he'd prepared to take aim, something had struck him on the back of the head. After that he remembered nothing, only vague snatches of imagery. A dwarf running at him with a sword, a sharp pain in his side, trees flashing past as he ran, the cliffs of Maragorn and a woman in a white dress that had looked suspiciously like a wedding gown.
Had he married? His eyes flew open and he jerked upright, almost immediately sorry he had done so. Pain rocked his body as bile burned his throat. He moaned and fell against the pillows as black spots danced before his eyes.
"Ah, you're awake, I see."
A haunting, melodic voice rose to his right. Gritting his teeth, he turned his head toward the unearthly sound. His gaze wavered before righting itself to focus on the figure approaching him.
For a moment, the sunlight pouring through the open window obscured her, making it appear as if she had a halo of golden light pouring from her long, pale hair. As she leaned over him, he could finally bring her into focus.
She wasn't very big, barely over five feet. Her hair was straight and the palest gold he'd ever seen. Her skin was cream pale and her features were slim, almost delicate. Soft winged brows, thick-lashed emerald green eyes and a soothing smile. She was exquisite. Around her head she wore a woven silver band and in the center dangled an emerald as green as her eyes.
The design of the band heralded her as member of the Nellwyn, one of the Wood clans. She was an elf.
She placed a cool hand upon his brow, her thumb gently stroking the knot above his temple. "You're alive and now you're awake, though I'll warrant you wish you were dead, my friend."Her voice was musical, lulling in tone and accent. She stoked his forehead and the pain began to recede.
He tried to speak, but his throat was so dry, no words could form. The woman gave an understanding smile before she turned away to retrieve a mug from a table across the room.
"I've brewed some tea for you. Drink and you'll sleep. When you awaken, you'll feel new once more."
Ranulf tried to smile his thanks, but failed miserably when she had to aid in raising his head. Everything hurt so much, he couldn't think straight and forming a coherent sentence was out of the question.
The bitter flavor of the tea was softened by a liberal dose of honey. Thankful for anything wet to ease his thirst, he gulped down the liquid. Afterward she gave him a drink of cool water to wash away the bitter aftertaste.
She eased his head onto the pillows and wiped his lips as tenderly as a mother would a child. When she was done, she stepped back and that odd halo created by the sunlight returned. She was possibly the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. She-elves were known for their ability to bedazzle mortal men, but they'd never had an effect upon him as this one was.
His eyelids grew heavy and suddenly he was afraid that, if he slept, this bewitching creature would escape. Before he would allow himself to drift off, he had to know her name.
He forced his eyes to remain open. "Milady,"his voice was slurred. "My name is Ranulf the Hunter and I will have your name before I take my rest for you are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen."
The woman's expression turned sorrowful. "You're mistaken for I am as plain as a fish, milord. But since you asked so sweetly, I am called Nia, the Lady of Maragorn. Fear not, for I sha'nt bewitch you. You'll leave these woods as you have entered them, a man."
Ranulf's eyes slid shut, his mind barely comprehending what she'd said. This beautiful creature was the one known as the Witch of Maragorn? He gave a slight grunt of amusement... or at least he thought he did.
Impossible. The stories of the Lady were a parent's tool designed to make youngsters obey their edicts. He himself had heard the stories of the beautiful witch-elf as he'd sat on his father's knee. This wasn't possible as the woman didn't look old enough to have been the living here when he was a child.
With a mighty yawn, Ranulf the Hunter, heir to the throne of Leavendor, Steward of Malian, slept.
* * *
Nia stirred the contents of her cook pot and the savory aroma of rabbit stew rose with the steam. Almost the entire day had passed and her patient should be waking up soon. She'd feed him, keep him until morning and send him on his way before she did anything stupid like kiss him. The last thing she needed was one more victim with which to contend.
Her gaze strayed to the stranger sleeping in her bed. Was there ever a man who'd had a mouth to be kissed like his? His color had returned and now he slept the peaceful slumber of exhaustion.
His cheeks and chin were dark with stubble and thick lashes cast dark shadows across his cheeks. His dark hair had dried and she delighted in its natural wa
ve, so unlike her own straight locks. His mouth was full with the lower lip slightly larger than the top. And they looked soft... warm...
She groaned and set her spoon on a plate on the hearth. No, never again. She'd made her vow to never kiss another man and she'd keep that vow if it were the last thing she'd do. She looked at the row of stone creatures lining the hearth. She had no choice.
The gentle rustle of sheets turned her attention back to the bed. Her heart gave a jolt when she saw the stranger's dark blue gaze fastened on her. A shiver of longing snaked through her abdomen and she pushed it away. She needed to get him well and on his way as soon as possible, for his sake.
"Are you feeling better?"She approached the bed.
"Yes, much."His voice was husky from disuse.
"Feel up to eating something?"
"Um,"he glanced around the room. "I need to answer the call of nature, if you'll direct me that is."
Nia smiled at the rush of color tinting his cheeks. Men, they were so predictable. King of the mountain while they were on their feet, but when you lay them flat on their backs and unable to help themselves, they turned prudish. Imagine what the world would be like if women acted so squeamishly about a simple bodily function. From the pantry, she retrieved a pitcher she kept for such a purpose.
"You take care of this and I'll dish up some food. You must be ravenous."Handing him the container, she turned away to ladle stew into a bowl, adding crackers made from lentil beans on top. After drawing a mug of fresh water, she carried his dinner to him.
"Thank you, milady."His blush was still in place when she set his dinner on the table by the bed.
"Eat."She took the pitcher him. "I think you'll find that when you've eaten, you'll feel like your old self again."
"It smells delicious."
Nia didn't miss how the stranger literally fell on his food. Humming with satisfaction over a job well done, she escaped outside to empty the pitcher.