Magical Stew

by Barbara Hodges

  The shape-changer, who’d told her his name was Vulpine, walked Brianna through a world of green: green trees, green grass, green brush, even the two birds she’d seen were green. So it startled her when he led her into an open meadow with a fairytale-gone-amok castle in its center. The walls were a golden brick; a black wall of stone circled it. Turrets rose straight and tall, pennants flapping from their highest peaks. They were also black with some fantastical creature on them. She thought it might be a gryphon.

  He led her toward a drawbridge. It was a narrow bridge, just big enough for the two of them to walk across side by side. Whatever was beneath it smoked and made her eyes water and burn.

  They stopped before a portcullis of metal spikes, and Vulpine snorted in irritation. He glared up at the gatehouse. “Drago thinks to challenge me.”

  Brianna looked up toward the small balcony. A figure stood there, brown and glistening in the sun. As it turned to walk away, she clearly saw folded wings on its back.

  The portcullis slowly lifted. Vulpine waited only until it cleared their heads before her waved her forward. Half through, she glanced up at the sharp points. How fast could it be lowered, she wondered?

  The sweet smell of roses overpowered the stench of the moat. Curious, she looked ahead to a jungle of blooming roses—red white, yellow, and every hue in between. Some clung to life-size statues. Others spread formed wide hedges.

  “Oh, my God,” Brianna said, almost gagging on the overpowering perfumes.

  “Katarina likes roses,” Vulpine said without expression.

  Brianna held the back of her hand to her nose as she nodded.

  “They are lunching,” Vulpine said. “We are to join them there.” His voice was terse and angry as he walked stiffly by her.

  He set a quick pace and she did a fast jog to keep up with him. They passed through tall, ornate doors and down a hall with black walls and red tiles. Alabaster hands jutted from the walls, each holding a lit candle. It was all too much. She was in sensory overload. It was like some Goth interior decorator had slipped over the edge into madness. She remembered a show from her youth, Captain Kangaroo. There’d been a cartoon on it, Fractured Fairytales. That’s what this was, a Fractured Fairytale castle.

  Vulpine stopped before two wide doors. He fairly bristled with animosity. He pushed the doors inward without knocking.

  It was a dining hall. A large table stretched down its middle. A red table runner split it in half and silver candlesticks with black candles lined its center. Ornate carved chairs ran its length. A woman sat at one end of the table, and a man sat at the other. The woman’s hair was red with streaks of gold. She wore a gown of shimmering ivory. Its neckline dipped low, showing an expanse of creamy skin. An emerald the size of a chicken’s egg rested between her breasts. Her red-slicked lips smiled a smile that didn’t reach her cold, green eyes as Vulpine entered. The man did not turn around.

  Vulpine walked straight to her and bowed. “She is here as commanded, my queen.”

  The woman fixed Brianna with her frigid gaze.

  “Approach.”

  Brianna moved forward. The scent of roses came to her, and she swallowed. The woman extended a thin hand with dagger-like nails painted the same crimson as her mouth. Brianna took the offered hand, almost gasping as its heat burned her palm. The green gaze held hers for a moment, and then swept a glance over her. Brianna saw the judgment in the woman’s eyes—no threat and unimportant. She felt her cheeks heat and she lifted her chin.

  “I am Katarina, the future Queen of Alamonar.” The woman’s voice rang with arrogance.

  “Brianna Cole.”

  “Yes, heir to the ancient. I know who you are.” Katarina waved a hand toward the end of the table. “My consort, Christian Samuels.”

  Feeling Katarina’s piercing gaze upon her, she turned toward the man. He lifted a gold chalice toward her and then drank from it. So this was Mirabella’s Christian. He wore a tunic of pale green. His long blond hair fell around his broad shoulders. She thought his eyes were brown, but then they changed to gold. He sat the chalice back down, and a servant scrambled to top it off with red wine.

  “Charmed,” he said, his words slurred.

  Why, he’s half-drunk, Brianna thought.

  “We celebrate our betrothal this day,” Katarina said.

  Beside her, Brianna heard Vulpine groan.

  “Oh? Congratulations,” Brianna said.

  Christian took another long drink of wine.

  Katarina picked up her own chalice and sipped from it. “This will be the last I have for some time.” A small, satisfied smile curved her lips. “I’ve heard spirits are not good for a breeding woman.”

  Christian laughed and Brianna looked sharply at him. What was going on here? He didn’t look much like a prisoner to her. And was Katarina already pregnant by him? From where she stood it looked like Mirabella was being played for a fool on all sides. Then Christian looked at her, and she saw the naked despair in his eyes.

  “How is Mirabella?” Katarina said. “I would send an invitation to our early morning nuptials, but I do not think she would accept.”

  “I don’t know what her schedule is for tomorrow,” Brianna answered.

  It was clear the woman didn’t understand Brianna’s meaning; anger glittered in her eyes. “Don’t toy with me, girl. I had thought to only keep you from Mirabella until the child of prophecy is within me, but plans can be altered.”

  Brianna looked away from the piercing eyes. “I think you know where Mirabella is.”

  Katarina laughed. “The bitch shields herself well.” She pushed away from the table and stood. “But it makes no difference. I have what she needs.” She waved toward the table. “Are you hungry?”

  Brianna shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  “Then I will have you shown to your room.” A manservant hurried forward. “You will find it comfortable, but a warning—do not try to leave. The results will be painful, to say the least.”

  She walked to Christian and held out her hand. “Come, love. I desire a walk in the garden.”

  Christian did not rise, and Brianna saw red flood Katarina’s face. “Must you always test me? I may not know where your fair Mirabella is at the moment, but she cannot hide from me forever.”

  With those words, Brianna understood the scene. It was an old story. She had the man leashed with her threats to his real love. She inwardly sighed. Agreements like that never worked.

  In silence, she followed the servant. How was she going to get out of here? If she did manage to escape the castle, she had no idea where Mirabella’s cottage was. It galled her to sit and wait, but there just didn’t seem to be any other way to go.

  They stopped before a door, and the man opened it and stepped back for her to enter. “Thank you,” she said. The servant looked startled before he turned and hurried away.

  Brianna crossed the room to a large open window. She was on the bottom floor of the castle and beyond the window was the rose garden. With a grimace, she closed the window. The room wasn’t bad. Done up in shades of purple and gold it was downright royal. The large canopied bed filled its center. A freestanding wardrobe and highboy stood to each side of the bed, and a tri-folding screen made up most of the left wall. The rugs were some kind of white, fluffy animal fur, and she took great pains to walk around them.

  She moved to the wardrobe and opened it. Gowns hung on pegs inside. They were of all colors and made out of some silky-looking fabric. She wondered if Katarina kept dresses in all the bedrooms of the castle.

  Brianna heard loud sharp words and walked back to the window. Beneath an arbor, Katarina and Christian stood. Braving the rose perfume, she opened the window a crack.

  “Of course, a priest will marry us,” Katarina said. “I’ve sent for one.”

  “A white priest will never come to you.”

  “I didn’t say white, did I?”

  Christian laughed. “So our marriage,” he bitterly stressed the wo
rd, “will be unblessed?”

  Katarina smiled. “Oh, we will be blessed, just not by Mirabella’s Goddess.”

  “She is my Goddess, too.”

  Katarina reached up and brushed a strand of hair from his face.” You must put her from your mind – the Goddess and Mirabella. Both Rhonal and I are jealous types.”

  Christian stepped back from her.

  “Don’t do that,” she snapped. “You are to be my consort.”

  “You may have my body,” he said clearly, “but that is all you will ever have.”

  “Damn you. I can have her killed…”

  “And if you do, I will kill you. A promise, not a threat.”

  “Kill me? To try will mean your own death.” Katarina raised her voice.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “What a fool you are, Christian Samuels. Do you think she really cares for you? It is the Goddess she obeys. If the Goddess had not told her to be with you, she would not be.”

  “You lie. We love each other, and have for many lifetimes.”

  “She wants your child, the same as I do.” Katarina spat the words at him.

  “No, not the same. You wish to have Alamonar beneath your thumb. The child of prophecy will but a tool for you and Rhonal. Mirabella wants Alamonar to remain free.”

  Katarina spun away from him. “Make yourself ready for me.”

  “I thought we were to wait until after we were joined in union?” Christian cast a haunted look around the garden.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” Katarina snapped. “And what does it matter? You said it would mean nothing to you.”

  When he did not answer, she turned to face him again. “Do not worry, you will be able to perform. Your heart may not want me, but your body will.”

  Katarina sauntered by him with a pronounced sway of her hips. Halfway down the path, she turned and looked back. Christian was staring at the ground, and Brianna laughed softly as the woman spun and stomped away.

  Brianna watched until she was gone and then leaned out the window. “Christian.”

  Startled, he turned toward her window. With a glance behind him, he came to her. “You heard?”

  “Yes.”

  His face flushed. “Things are not as they seem.”

  “I know how things are—you stay with her and Mirabella lives.”

  He smiled bitterly. “I am a fool to trust her.” He gave her a sharp look. “As you are to believe that you will live after the child is conceived. Rhonal is a vengeful god, and full of hatred to anything that remains of Sarunos.”

  “I know,” Brianna said. “I heard her say you were to come to her tonight. Doesn’t she know about the eclipse part of the program?”

  “What?”

  “The day becoming night,” she reminded him.

  “Katarina knows,” he said with a defeated smile. “It is her way of punishment. I have displeased her.”

  “But what if she becomes pregnant before?”

  “I don’t know this word pregnant.” He looked puzzled.

  “With child,” Brianna said.

  “She is a sorceress.”

  “Oh. I get it.” She looked across the rose garden. “Mason will be coming for us.”

  “He was the seeker?” Christian asked, his gaze searching her face.

  Brianna nodded.

  “He is dead.”

  Her heart thudded. “No, he isn’t. I went with Vulpine so they would leave him alone.”

  Christian laughed. “Now who’s the fool? Of course they killed him. Katarina told them to. It is beyond them to go against her orders.”

  Brianna swayed and tightened her hold on the windowsill. It wasn’t true. Mason had to be alive; they’d just found each other again, and what about Gnaw? She held her breath and pictured him in her mind. In all the romance books, the heroine could feel if her love was dead. She felt nothing and released her breath with a disgusted snort. But stubbornness prevailed. He wasn’t dead. Damn. Life couldn’t be that cruel. She looked at Christian, shaking her head. “Mason can handle himself. We’ll just have to wait and see who’s right.”

  Christian looked at her in surprise, and then he smiled. “You are a strange woman. But for some reason, you give me hope. We will wait for our rescuers together. That is, until Katarina sends someone for me.”

  She stepped back from the window. “I’d ask you to come in, but with those magic things on the window…”

  He reached a hand out and touched her cheek. “The wards only serve to keep one from going out, not someone from coming in.”

  Vulpine watched Christian climb through the window and into Brianna’s room. Katarina would not like that. Should he tell her? Jealousy alone would not keep Christian out of Katarina’s arms, but it might buy him some time. And if they were to escape? Mirabella giving birth to the child of prophecy would bring about Katarina’s downfall. Would she turn to him then? The thought intrigued him as he turned and walked back into the garden.

  *****

  Mason stood at the edge of the glade staring into the woods. In the cottage, he’d found a pair of cotton trousers and a tunic. Christian’s, no doubt, and he thanked the Goddess. He’d had no wish to go searching for Mirabella skyclad.

  At his feet, Gnaw whined. He reached down and touched the wolf pup’s head. Anger and frustration made acid churn in his stomach. Which way should he go? How would he find Mirabella? He could stumble around for hours out there and never find her. What was Katarina doing to Brianna? By the Goddess, no; he wouldn’t lose her to death again.

  Gnaw moved away from him and into the first of the trees. She turned, looked back at Mason, and whined. Follow the pup? The thought was stupid. Mason shrugged. He had no better idea.

  They followed no trail, just wove in and out among the trees and brush. Three times he had to backtrack when a wall of brambles blocked them.

  Gnaw stopped, sniffed the air, and then yipped and bounded forward. Hope rose and then withered. Twice before the young pup had done so—and twice before it had been nothing. A sense of hopelessness weighted Mason’s legs. How long had they been walking? He looked toward the sun. It rode low on the horizon; its golden light already fading from the forest floor. Should he turn back? He’d been careful to mark his return trail to the cottage.

  Ahead of him, Gnaw turned and yipped again. Okay, he’d hang in there a little longer, but if this turned out to be another dead end, they were turning back.

  Gnaw danced along the bank of a swift-flowing stream. Mason groaned. “We’ve got to cross it?”

  Gnaw lifted her head and howled. The wolf pup’s surprised look at the sound made him smile.

  He looked up and down the stream. He hadn’t expected a bridge, but maybe some well-placed rocks. No such luck. He was going to get wet.

  He frowned at Gnaw. “Mirabella damned-well-better be on the other side of this.”

  Balancing, he pulled first one shoe and sock from his foot, and then the other. Reaching down, he rolled his trousers high above his knees in a vain hope he could wade across the stream. Tying the shoelaces together, he draped them around his neck.

  He grimaced as his bare toes touched the water. Somewhere, Alamonar had some snow-covered peaks because this stream felt like melted run-off. Gnaw yipped at him.

  “What? I’m supposed to carry you?” He bent and picked up the pup. “You squirm one time and you’re on your own.”

  Setting his teeth, he waded in. The frigid water rose steadily. Twice he swore loudly when slippery stones rolled beneath his bare feet. When it lapped his waist, he turned and glanced back. They were over half way. Gnaw whined her unease.

  “Don’t complain to me,” he snapped. This was your idea.” His toes found sand again and the water level dropped. Soon it was lapping his thighs.

  He climbed up on to the dry bank and sat Gnaw down. She sniffed the air and then pranced to his right. “All right. All right.”

  A log lay higher up the bank and he walked to it and put on his shoes and
socks. Standing, he rolled down the trouser legs, grimacing as they clung to his wet skin.

  “Lead on, McDuff,” he said with a wave of his hand, and Gnaw darted forward.

  They’d only walked another quarter of a mile when they found her. Mirabella sat at the base of a large oak tree, staring straight ahead. Her head did not turn as they neared. They stopped in front of her and still she did not say a word. Gnaw touched her hand with her nose and Mirabella blinked. Her hand rose to scratch behind Gnaw’s left ear, and it was then she looked up. Quick surprise and then anger crossed her face.

  “What are you doing here? You should have never left the glade.” He saw it in her eyes, the instant she realized Brianna wasn’t with them. “By the Goddess, no. Katarina has her, but how?”

  “She tossed slave after slave at the wards until they dissolved. I saw their bodies, and then a shape-changer and eight more of them found us.”

  “How long has she had Brianna?” Mirabella leaned back to look up at him.

  “I’m not sure. At least three hours. I’ve been looking for you since then. I wouldn’t have found you except for Gnaw.”

  Mirabella nodded. “We connected when I searched for Katarina’s taint within her.” She stroked the wolf pup. “It is good she found Brianna.” For a moment, her eyes unfocused. “I do wonder why the Goddess did not warn me…but it is not for me to question.”

  She held out her hand, and Mason drew her to her feet. “But they are together now, Christian and Brianna. Maybe it is as the Goddess willed.”

  “So where is Katarina’s cottage, and how do we get them back?”

  Mirabella sighed. “I’m afraid it isn’t a cottage, but a castle with all of its armaments.”

  “How many slaves,” he asked.

  “An army,” she replied, “and all will die for her. Her magic is strong within its walls.”

  Mason frowned. “And there’s Rhonal, too.”

  Mirabella shrugged. “Rhonal has his own desires. He would sacrifice Katarina to us in a instant if it furthered them.” Her forehead creased. “We cannot overpower them, and her magic will counteract mine. Stealth is the only way. But there is one within the walls who might help.”