by V F Sharp
“Is that what I think it is?” said Meldon.
“None other than my mom’s stew.”
Meldon shook his head. He felt like they were all wasting their time with silly ideas.
“Pallu!” yelled Zander. “Are you serious with that?”
“Why not try it?”
“I think we need to get him back to the Cottages and have the elders look at him,” said Meldon. “They can at least consult the old scripts.”
“I doubt the old scripts can do anything about this,” Fin said, as Pallu knelt over Ithron.
“And I doubt the old scripts have my mom’s stew recipe,” said Pallu, dipping the large spoon into the jug.
“Please Ithron,” said Jezreel. “Please come back to us. I know you can fight it.”
Meldon wasn’t sure if he was just seeing things, which he seemed to be doing a lot of lately, but it looked like Ithron’s skin began to lighten every time Jezreel spoke.
“Nobody can resist my mom’s stew,” said Pallu, holding the spoon under Ithron’s nose. “Nobody.”
Meldon watched intently. He could’ve sworn Ithron’s skin was lightening even more. Pallu put the jug next to Ithron’s head and fanned the fumes toward his face.
After a few moments of that, along with Jezreel’s words of encouragement, Ithron made a slight move.
“He blinked!” yelled Fin.
Then his fingers began to twitch.
“I think it’s working,” said Meldon. “Pallu, keep it up. Come on, Ithron, fight this!”
Pallu continued to fan the fumes toward Ithron as Jezreel leaned over Ithron’s face.
“Wake up, Ithron,” she said, softly, touching his forehead. “It’s Jez. We’re all here for you.”
Ithron took a sudden deep breath and his eyes opened. He looked up at Jezreel and the color began to return to his face. Slowly, he lifted his shaky, weak right hand and touched her cheek. It was the most sincere gesture Meldon had ever seen him make—another first for Ithron during this journey.
“You,” said Ithron, longingly, as he gazed up at Jezreel’s beaming face.
A tear formed in his eye. Even Meldon was getting choked up, and he wasn’t one to be sentimental.
“Her!?” said Pallu, breaking the moment. “Hey buddy, let’s not give her all the glory. My mom’s famous stew deserves a you.”
After a slight delayed reaction, everyone began to laugh at once, while Jezreel continued to gaze down at Ithron.
Pallu was trying to help Ithron sit up, when Ithron grabbed Jezreel’s face and planted a long, passionate kiss on her lips. Nobody was expecting that, especially Jezreel. It didn’t look like she minded it, though. It was obvious that she very much enjoyed it.
The awkward moment seemed to go on forever. Everyone looked at one another uncomfortably.
“Well, that’s one way to get a bride,” said Pallu, breaking the silence. Meldon burst out laughing along with everyone else. Jezreel’s face turned bright red, while Ithron looked at her with a big smile.
“Meldon, help me figure this out,” said Pallu. “How do I get myself to turn grey so I can wake up kissing my bride? Should I eat a grey, poisonous mushroom? Or maybe I should let a giant grey bug sting me? Because I’ll be happy to do either one of those.”
Zander put his arm around Pallu. “It won’t help,” he said.
Meldon noticed that Lanzzie wasn’t laughing, and he knew that she had a good reason. He approached her and put his arm around her.
“I don’t think I’ll ever see her again,” she said, sobbing.
“You don’t know that, Lanz,” he said. “I’m sure she’s hiding somewhere safe. We have to believe that.”
“But we don’t know that,” she said. “Ithron was lucky we pulled him out of that forest so quickly. My sister’s been in there for two days now.”
Meldon had to admit she had a point, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.
Fin approached and saved Meldon from offering up an awkward response.
“We’re not giving up yet,” said Fin. “We’ll need to get back to the Cottages before dark, but if we have to risk telling others, then that’s what we’ll do. We just have to figure out a plan.”
“Lanz, don’t give up,” said Jezreel.
Lanzzie seemed too defeated and exhausted to answer. She simply nodded.
“Everyone, listen,” said Fin, walking to the center of the group to address them. “Let’s meet at my cottage after we check in the rabbits and unload. Bring food to snack on. It’ll help keep us awake. We may have a long night of planning, so you might as well bring blankets, pillows, and whatever else you need, just in case. It’s time we make some important decisions.”
Meldon patted Lanzzie on the back gently to show support. He watched a tear roll down her face, but he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t even fathom how helpless she must’ve felt.
“Whatever you do, you can’t lose hope,” said Fin. “I’ve seen how determined you can be. You’re just like your sister. She’ll need that from you now. She’s out there alive somewhere, you have to believe that. We’re not giving up.”
She looked at him and gave a slight smile that Meldon could tell wasn’t entirely sincere. “Let’s go Lanz,” said Fin.
CHAPTER SIX
Prince Alazar sat at his ornate wooden desk—a desk that once bore witness to the fabled glory days of Old Vynterra in this very spot. He contemplated the gravity of his position, especially now, with rumors of forbidden magic running rampant.
As he thought about what he was going to write, he held two white, feather quills side by side and examined them. He placed the shorter of the two into a well-polished wooden box that contained the full set. He sighed and observed the ancient desk, with its magnificent three-headed dragon carved into the front panel and one on each of the curved legs. He opened the bottom drawer and placed the box of remaining quills inside. Ready to begin, he lifted his chosen quill and nodded to his archminister, Eliezer.
With a slight look of concern, Eliezer, who was advanced in years, placed the scroll on the desk and unraveled it, his wrinkled hands shaking as he spread the material out. Prince Alazar dipped the quill and began to write on his parchment while Eliezer tended to other matters around the chamber.
The prince paused occasionally to ensure that every word was written with wisdom and heart. He truly felt the burden and weight of each sentence that he wrote, and knew all too well that his words would one day become etched into the annals of history, alongside the scrolls of long ago. Indeed, he was documenting the actions he’d soon have to take to protect the kingdom—the kind of actions that brought nothing but death to his beloved, legendary ancestor—Prince Valorian. But the potential risks in that forest were simply too great to ignore.
He stopped to stare once again at the intricately crafted three-headed dragon on the desk.
“Tell me,” he said to the wooden dragon. “Do I act with honor?” He thought of the Great War and how the kings of old must have felt before signing the treaty that changed the world forever—a treaty that separated all magic from the human world, and one he’d sworn an oath to protect.
“The dragon won’t tell you that,” said Eliezer, gazing at him from across the room, “any more than the blessed stars advised your ancestors.”
“So, you heard me,” said the prince as he let out a slight chuckle.
Eliezer smiled. “I may be old, but my ears still work sometimes—and my eyes. You ask if you act with honor. Pardon me for saying, sire, but it seems to me you confuse honor with wisdom.”
“How so?”
“You have a keen sense of duty,” said Eliezer, approaching. “Of that, I have no doubt. But what you really want to know is whether you act with wisdom.”
“And do I?”
“Even wisdom has its limits in times of uncertainty, my lord. And these are uncertain times indeed.”
He noticed Eliezer was holding an old copper balance scale, which the old man plac
ed on the desk.
“You must act,” said Eliezer. “But act with prudence. With caution. Prepare for the risks. Once you have done that—”
He paused and lifted a shaky hand to place a small gold coin on the left side of the scale. The scale teetered until the left side eventually lowered to the desk.
“The rest,” said the old man, “will fall as it may.”
The prince nodded. He always respected Eliezer’s advice, which, over the years, has shaped who he’s become today.
Eliezer exited Prince Alazar’s study and the prince returned his attention to his scroll. Hearing someone enter, he looked back up and saw that Sir Borak, one of his more hard-headed knights, had entered the room.
“Forgive me, my lord,” said Borak, “but we have the criminal prepared to be hanged.”
“And which criminal are we speaking of?” said the prince.
“The thief—who stole from one of the nobles.”
Prince Alazar shook his head. “How has it gotten this far?” he said. “I ordered that he should receive a just punishment. Do you consider this just?”
“If you please, my lord, justice should be swift and harsh.”
“Justice should be fair. That is the very meaning of just. I will not have a man hanged for stealing baubles from royalty.”
“I believe it was more than that, sire. It was—”
“Whatever it was, was it worth more than his life?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Do you know why he stole?”
The knight remained silent.
“I thought as much. You don’t know whether this man was desperate or simply a glutton. In any case, hanging is quite extreme, don’t you agree?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“The justice I decree is that he will be imprisoned in the dungeons for as long a time as it took for the owners to earn the items he stole. Then he shall be freed. Is that understood?”
“It is, sire. But the owners… they’re nobles. They didn’t necessarily earn what he stole.”
“Then it’s a simple matter of determining their average monthly profits from land rentals, farming, and bank interest and dividing it by the value of what was stolen. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Let it be known that I give equal favor to all people, whether they’re royalty or not, just as my ancestors did within the very walls of this castle. You would do well to read the scrolls.”
The knight knelt and bowed his head.
“You may go, Sir Borak.”
After Sir Borak exited, the prince heard a gentle knock at the open door.
Eliezer showed two noblemen in, whom the prince immediately recognized as Zebulun and Hiram. They were hard to miss. Hiram was as wide as Zebulun was tall. They were already arguing with one another, which was no surprise. Despite being best of friends since childhood, they rarely agreed on anything.
Both men immediately bowed.
“You summoned us, my lord?” said Zebulun, whose hawkish face and pronounced cheekbones projected a certain air of intelligence.
“Yes,” said the prince. “It concerns the forest. I’m sure you’re aware of the rumors.”
“Most certainly, sire,” said Zebulun. “It’s getting considerably worse, I must say.”
“Children’s tales, if you ask me,” said Hiram, his portly face turning red. “Gossipers, all of them.”
“Hardly,” said Zebulun. “There were three sightings this week alone. Seven in a fortnight. I know that I don’t need to tell you what the villagers are saying, Your Highness.”
“And what are they saying?” said the prince.
Zebulun smirked. “Some say the dark forces of old have returned from the Magiclands.”
“And others?”
“They say another kingdom may be involved.”
“Terrible theories, both of them,” said Hiram. “No kingdom would dare. And the Magiclands are across the sea.”
“But, my dear Hiram,” said Zebulun, “I haven’t even told you the worst rumor.”
“Of course you haven’t,” said Hiram. “And I suppose you won’t hold your wretched tongue in telling it now, will you?” Hiram grumbled under his breath.
Zebulun leaned in toward the prince. “If you don’t mind me saying, my lord, there’s talk about the woman who was just found. The one who died in that forest. They think she was someone from our villages. Some say she was the one responsible for the strange happenings in the forest, and they’re becoming increasingly vocal about it.”
“Good,” said Hiram. “Maybe it’ll stop all the confounded children from running to that dreadful place just to gather up a fright. It’s terrible what—”
“Gentlemen,” said the prince, rising from his desk. “The woman we found in the forest was not from our villages, nor do we believe she came from any of the nearby Cottage farms. We suspect she’s a highborn lady, but from where, we’re unsure.”
“Highborn?” said Hiram. “Why were we not told of this?”
“I’m telling you now.”
“But how will we know what kingdom to notify of her passing?”
“I must agree with my well-fed friend, my lord,” said Zebulun. “We must do what we can to find out where she is from. Her poor family has a right to know of her death.”
“I plan to find out,” said the prince. “As soon as she awakens.”
“Awakens?” said Zebulun, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. “What manner of woman is this who awakens from the dead? Is she a ghost, sire?”
The prince laughed and walked around his desk toward the nobles and placed his hands atop Zebulun’s shoulders. “Not a ghost, dear Zebulun. The woman we found in the forest is very much alive.”
“Alive? And a highborn?” said Zebulun. “Then the villagers are right! Another kingdom is behind this. Why else would a highborn woman from another kingdom be in that forest, so close to the Vynterran border?”
“That’s the very question I’ve been pondering myself,” said the prince as he walked back to his chair and sat down. “At any rate, I’d caution you not to make any assumptions or hold judgment of the lady until I’ve had a chance to speak with her.”
“It does seem to be an awful coincidence,” said Zebulun, “does it not? Her appearance at such a time?”
“I make it a habit to never speculate without the facts,” said the prince. “Meanwhile, I called you both in here for a reason.”
“Of course, my lord,” said Zebulun.
“We’re at your service,” added Hiram, puffing his chest up with pride.
Prince Alazar leaned back against his chair. “We’ve all seen the recent evidence that there may be something in that forest after all. I won’t deny that. But, until we know more, I’m not going to guess what’s behind it. I don’t want anyone else to do so, either. I need you both to put the twin villages at ease.”
“But how?” said Hiram. “Especially the Western villagers. You know how they are, my lord.”
“Inform them that we’re investigating the situation and that they should continue to observe my decree and remain within the Vynterran territory, by order of the prince. They are commanded to stay out of the forest. Inform them we have an injured woman, not a dead one. Speak ambiguously of her because we don’t know the facts. And report to me if anything escalates. Do I have your word?”
“Of course, my lord,” said Zebulun.
Hiram nodded. “You do, sire.”
“Good,” said the prince. “If this woman is in any way involved, or if there is a threat to our kingdom, I’ll call a meeting of the council, and we will then discuss how and when to raise the alert. For now, my work calls to me.” He rubbed his hands together. “Good day, gentlemen.”
The two men bid their farewells and exited the room as Eliezer came to collect them.
Prince Alazar picked up his quill and continued to write. The words were flowing more smoothly now. He had become more clearheaded about
how he wanted to frame his position on the matters at hand.
As soon as he completed the final sentence, he carefully rolled up the parchment and tied it with a loose ribbon. He stood and walked to the bookcase, pulling out the fourth book from the left on the upper shelf. The faded, unmarked book was hollow, like several other books which had been left there for ages. He placed the scroll inside the book and returned it to the shelf.
He turned around and there was a knock on the door, startling him.
“Eliezer, no more visit—”
He looked up to see that it wasn’t Eliezer. It was his head housekeeper, Miss Tee.
“Beg your pardon, my lord,” she said, “but you did say to come to you once the Lady from the forest has awoken.”
“She’s awake?” he said.
“Wide awake, my lord. She even spoke to me.”
“Good, good. What did she say?”
“Well, for one, m’lord, she said she isn’t a Lady at all.”
“That’s odd. She said her name was Lady Ar—” He paused and wondered for a moment if there was more to this strange woman than meets the eye. He gathered himself, then looked at Miss Tee, calmly.
“Did she say who she is?” he said.
“Why yes, she gave her name. Oh dear, what was it?” she said, scratching her head. “Oh yes, it’s… Ezstasia.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Still too exhausted to rise, Ezstasia held the cream, silk covers against her face. They were made of the softest, smoothest material she’d ever touched, and the delicate fabric felt soothing against her skin. The bed she was in was fit for a king or queen, with a plush, burgundy, draped canopy supported by four wooden posts, each with an intricately-carved serpentine swirl design. Wherever she was, the family must’ve been well-to-do.
A brief knock at the large double wooden doors startled her. She lifted her head slightly and watched the doors slowly open, the old hinges creaking loudly.
The same woman who she had seen earlier entered the room. She was a pleasant enough woman, jolly and plump. Ezstasia’s head felt heavy, and she felt herself drifting in and out of sleep.
