Chapter Nine
The shepherd and the wolf waited until the men had retired to their tents and the moon was high. Then Aunt Serafine guided them out a large window at the back of the stone cottage.
Jonathan knew he ought to be more afraid but he had confidence in the clever enchantress’s plan. She was an amazing woman and would have made an excellent lord had she been a man.
Jonathan glanced at Sir Roan’s grey and white fur. The blood potion Aunt Serafine had made was so convincing, the shepherd shuddered at the false wound in the wolf’s flank.
Sir Roan lay still on his side, with an expression of stoic acceptance on his face; he wanted to tell the enchantress what he thought of her risking him in this manner. But this was the very thing he had been raised for; he would protect the last in line with his life. Of course, he sincerely hoped it would not come to that.
Sir Roan would perform his role heartily. Serese’s safety depended upon it.
Jonathan removed an arrow, placing it where Aunt Serafine had instructed—in the magical wound in Sir Roan’s side. The wolf only looked as if he had lost an intense battle with a bear.
Then Jonathan withdrew some rope from his leather pack and deftly tied Sir Roan’s legs together.
The wolf growled softly when the shepherd bent under the burden of the heavy canine over his shoulders. The shepherd held him like a sack of potatoes, practically upside down. Blood rushed to Sir Roan’s head as he struggled to remain still in his uncomfortable position.
Sir Roan restrained himself for he wanted to nip the shepherd’s arm. It seemed as if Jonathan was enjoying his role too much. He whistled a bawdy tune, under his breath.
Jonathan nearly tripped as he carried the wolf into the front lawn, where the soldiers were camped.
Sir Roan’s head bobbed listlessly against the sheepskin vest which Jonathan wore and his tail brushed into Jonathan’s eyes. “Stop that,” Jonathan harshly whispered but Sir Roan grinned as he let his tail hang limply over Jonathan’s shoulders.
“You there,” Jonathan called out to the soldier on guard duty, “I have come directly from my village. I have bad tidings for your lord.”
The soldier withdrew into his captain’s tent and their brown-bearded leader exited hastily, fastening his broadsword to its scabbard. He took notice of the shepherd carrying a bloodied wolf carcass.
He shouted to his men and they exited their tents, joining together in a circle around Jonathan as they trained their crossbows on him. Their leader spoke, “I see you have killed the wolf.”
“Yes, we have been hunting this one for ages now. I heard Lord Forn’s men were searching for a princess and a wolf. This one came upon my flock and I slayed him. I came directly to bring you its carcass. The smithy mentioned a reward.”
“But what of the young lady who was with him?” their leader asked as his men moved closer to Jonathan.
“At ease, men.” The leader said and the men-at-arms lowered their crossbows, while still maintaining their position.
Jonathan dropped Sir Roan to the snowy ground with a thud and the wolf stifled a groan as he lay completely still, trying to appear as dead as possible.
The shepherd replied, “I found this blood-stained costly fabric and these jewels, among the leftover parts of her which this creature discarded.”
Their leader approached Jonathan with curiosity as Jonathan held his right palm open with the amethysts and emeralds in it. The moon illuminated the fine make of the stones when it cast a single beam upon the jewels.
The soldiers exclaimed as they appreciated the small fortune on exhibit as they wondered aloud if their Lord would gift them with a share of the ensuing bounty.
Jonathan held a scrap of fabric in his left hand and the brown-bearded leader said. “That fabric matches Lord Forn’s description of the girl’s gown. I fear relaying this sad news to our lord. His temper is fierce. But these gemstones will compensate Lord Forn nicely for his loss. We would like to make a gift of the wolf skin to our lord. It would soothe his anger, since that creature left him with a nasty bite.”
Jonathan paused as his heart raced; he would need to dissuade this captain. How would he distract him from cruelly cutting open Sir Roan’s alleged remains? Then it came to him and he said, “If it pleases you, Sir, the enchantress has requested that the remains be given to her. She has use of them in her mystical arts. I am afraid to contradict her, if you want to know the truth.”
The brown-bearded leader blanched a bit as he said, “You sound like a man of sound mind. I suppose she may keep the wolf skin; I wouldn’t want to raise her ire. Please keep one of the gemstones in payment for your bravery.”
The captain handed the largest amethyst over to the shepherd, who took it in his outstretched hand.
“You could have kept them all for yourself, lad. It is rare to come across such honesty in the lower classes.” The captain commented while carefully wrapping the remaining jewels and pocketing them.
Jonathan smiled sheepishly as he replied, “It would look strange if a shepherd turned in such a cache of jewels. People would assume that I stole them and I need both my hands to protect my flock.”
“Lord Forn would likely have use for such an enterprising man as you. Perhaps you should return with us?”
“I have duties I am bound to. But thank you, just the same.”
Jonathan watched as the soldiers packed up their tents and saddled their horses. They were not even going to wait until morning to depart. The storm was letting up and the moon was high. It would be a tricky journey, but not impossible.
The shepherd stood by the still form of Sir Roan, until the men rode briskly away into the night.
Then Jonathan untied Sir Roan. He sighed with relief that Aunt Serafine’s plan had gone off, without a hitch. The shepherd removed the false arrow from the wolf’s side. Sir Roan could not help glancing with distaste at the entire gooey mess.
“It was touch and go there, when the captain wanted to bring my remains with them. But you handled yourself well, shepherd.” Sir Roan complimented Jonathan.
Then the wolf rolled over and over in the powdery snow, freeing as much of the sticky potion from his fur as he could. He shook his ruff and scratched his right back leg, stretching thoroughly while opening his mouth in an impressive yawn.
They entered the warm cottage where Serafine and Serese hugged them with an exuberance which embarrassed the shepherd but pleased the wolf.
“Impressive!” Aunt Serafine complimented them.
Jonathan smiled widely as he returned the single amethyst which the Captain had given him, to Aunt Serafine.
He surprised everyone when he withdrew a sewing kit from his pack and sewed Serese’s torn hem, as she sat before the fireplace. The princess had not even noticed that her aunt had magically altered the fabric. Serese had taken the spell book out of her pocket and whispered aloud the first verse therein written, “Dreams I see, Dreams I feel—Dreams thy inner workings reveal.”
A tingle of sensation fluttered in her stomach as images of fluttering butterflies appeared in her mind. Her throat clenched as the gemstone shocked her in between her bosom where it nestled.
Her aunt looked at her niece just then and nodded slightly as Serese quickly put the book away. She would read more of it later; it would be better to experience the resulting sensations in private.
Aunt Serafine said, “I believe you may have a place in a theatrical troupe, Jonathan.”
The shepherd laughed and said, “I would rather place myself in a military campaign, milady.”
“Sir Roan, I am indebted to you for your willingness to place yourself in danger.” Aunt Serafine gently patted the wolf.
Sir Roan bowed his shaggy head, “It is only my duty to protect the princess.”
Jonathan said, “Milady, it was your cleverness and your magic which caused the men-at-arms’ departure.”
Serese said, “I am grateful everything went according to plan. I am only sorry I put
you both in harm’s way. If I knew more spells, I may have helped more,” and she gave her aunt a hopeful look.
Aunt Serafine smiled, “Your time will come. I suggest we all rest, for I am certain there will be retribution. I only hope, for your sakes, I am alone when it arrives.”
Serese and her guardians retired to the largest guest room to sleep. None of them wished to be separated from the other.
The princess did think about visiting Ulysses but her aunt declared the excitable unicorn needed rest. It had been a strenuous evening for him as well. He could not abide wolves or men and had been subjected to both. His very horn was craving to draw blood on at least one irksome guest.
Serese was given the comfortable bed while Jonathan and Sir Roan slept on a pallet before the fireplace. Once again, after her companions were snoring, Serese withdrew the book and by candlelight, she whispered aloud the next spell, “Heat shall guide, cold shall hide-Direct my opal, to thy side.” The tingling sensation started in her toes and ended in her stomach but its duration was quicker than the previous time Serese had read from the volume’s decorated pages.
The princess and her new escort had begun that morning as strangers and by moonrise they had wound themselves into a three-stranded cord of friendship which would not be broken.
The snow fell gently on the stone cottage but the fireplace within burned steadily. One room was still lit by candlelight, as Aunt Serafine paced quietly in her elegant bedchamber.
Her silk slippers shuffled on the golden carpet which was strewn over the stone floor. She deliberated waking her niece from her much needed sleep. Aunt Serafine had seen a dreadful vision, but she was not clear on the exact time it would occur.
Aunt Serafine sighed with impatience. This gift of prophecy never gave her the specifics which she needed. It would not do, using her magic, for her earlier death imposter spell had exhausted it.
The enchantress threw her woolen dressing gown over her nightgown. She had decided to wake her niece and her helpful knights. They needed to be safely gone.
Aunt Serafine had learned to pay attention to her intuition. She had erred in the past when she hadn’t.
When she was sixteen summers old she had dreamt her elder brother was gored by a boar on the next day’s hunt.
He had died. She never forgave herself for not mentioning her dream to her parents.
Of course, Aunt Serafine’s mother had some magical ability herself and had discovered the truth of her daughter’s prophetic dreams. Her father, the king, had banished Aunt Serafine to this isolated mountain as punishment.
It was decided that she would await the appearance of the Argot girl who bore the mark of the rose. It was her penance, to assist the last in line, since she had been indirectly responsible for the loss of her family’s heir.
Aunt Serafine had been nineteen summers then and desperately in love with one of her father’s knights. She had begged him to be allowed to marry but all of her tears had no affect on her unforgiving father. But then, it was never easy for kings to lose their sons.
Aunt Serafine walked to the largest guest room, gently knocking before opening the door. They were all awake.
Sir Roan supervised the packing of their goods and the additional food supplies which Aunt Serafine had given them.
Serese had placed the silver flask in her gown’s pocket. She hugged her aunt when she noticed the worried look in her eyes.
Sir Roan read Aunt Serafine’s thoughts and acknowledged, “I sense Serpentine’s presence myself. She is near. It will come to a battle between the two of them. I would rather Serese grow more comfortable with her powers first.”
“Must you discuss me as if I am not here?” Serese asked as she haphazardly braided her hair.
“Will you not accompany us, Aunt?” Serese asked.
“It is not my task, my child. You will be in my thoughts when I read my Book of Hours.”
Aunt Serafine smiled sadly as she thought of the price she would pay for aiding Serese. The princess nervously chewed on a fingernail as she worried about what may befall her dearly loved aunt.
The wise wolf said, “I believe you will be more powerful than your sister, Serafine. You shall not be entirely overcome. Many thanks for your care of us.”
“You are most welcome, Sir Roan. All of my prayers shall go with you.”
Hasty embraces and thanks were exchanged. Serese had tears welling in her eyes when she hugged her aunt goodbye.
She had a feeling she would see her again, in better circumstances; Aunt Serafine was too accomplished to be hidden away indefinitely.
The reluctant warriors went into the frigid night, climbing the mountain trail which would take them over the cursed lake, through the forbidden forest and to the dark tower on Balzac’s farthest peak.
They were quiet as they climbed upward, each worrying about the vengeance which would be meted out to the beautiful enchantress who had won their affection. k'12
Chapter Ten
The icy sorceress barely left prints on the snow as if she lacked the necessary humanity to leave a trail.
The wind had ceased its insistent howling as if it knew that a greater nuisance than itself had entered the clearing before the cottage. Even the numerous sparrows had fled for the safety of the woodpile, leaving only cawing crows perched on the bare branches.
The white cloaked sorceress had flown in after Queen Amber, the fire faerie queen, had visited her in the flames of her great hall’s fireplace.
It rankled the sorceress to know that her own sister had betrayed her; it did not figure in her recollections that she, herself, had committed the same crime many times. She lightly tapped the rose door knocker and waited—fuming and eager to dispense with one more pesky thorn in her side.
Aunt Serafine slowly opened the door, peering cautiously around it at her sister while she grimaced and said, “I knew you would not be far off or long in arriving; I cannot say it is a pleasure to see you again.”
“Oh, Serafine, it is always a pleasure to be informed of your antics against me. I only wish you would put your skill to good use and join me. You knew Queen Amber would relay your betrayal to me. I cannot believe you have given Serese the elfin flask.”
“You are not as invincible as you believe yourself to be. That pride of yours will be your downfall.” Aunt Serafine said.
“Are you going to invite me in?” Serpentine asked.
“I will not,” Serafine replied, as she shut the door in her sister’s surprised face.
The enchantress took a small statue out of her robe’s pocket; it was a carved moonstone cat. Serafine stroked it as she chanted; a bright light enveloped her in a cloud of white.
Her own feline meowed and wound herself around her mistress’s legs as the protective magic surrounded them both. Ulysses whinnied from his room as the silky tabby cat thumped her tail. Serafine uttered a spell, “I fear. I fall. I conquer all. Love’s rays of light surround us all.”
Serpentine smiled as she listened to her sister, from the door step, and she uttered a dark curse which sent forth black wisps from her purple lips.
The hinges on the door groaned as the door suddenly caved inward with a crash.
The sorceress smiled insincerely as she entered the cottage. She swept aside her white woolen cloak, revealing her fitted silver gown with its snug sleeves, each adorned with a snake.
Serafine said cryptically, “I see you have some male company to warm you on these cold nights.”
Serpentine smiled, “Oh, I have formed useful alliances. It is a pity you and I never saw eye to eye.”
The sorceress approached her sister, stretching forth her arm. Serafine said, “That is close enough.”
“Oh dear sister, how suspicious you have become. I only meant to give you a kiss.”
The enchantress frowned as her older sister seemed to glide suddenly closer, until the sorceress held her tightly in her cold arms. Then the cruel witch held her sister’s dark head next to her gown
and placed a dry kiss on her cheek. Try as she might, Serafine could not break free of Serpentine’s steel grip.
The snake upon the sorceress’s arm crawled downward, flicking its black tongue as it crawled toward Serafine. The enchantress struggled in vain as she watched the other snake descend from its perch and slither toward her, from her sister’s other sleeve.
The serpent’s open mouth dripped poisonous venom onto the enchantress’s woolen dressing gown, burning a hole through the fine fabric.
Serafine held up her arm, fending off a snake, while Serpentine laughed.
The younger sister knew what her elder sister was attempting and she took a deep breath as she prepared herself. She wondered which spell to call forth; she had limited options. The enchantress could not entirely prevent what her evil sister had planned, but she could lessen the effects of the black magic.
Before Serpentine opened her mouth, Serafine uttered a counter curse,
“Fail! Fear! To Living Sleep I surrender, not to Death’s Sphere!”
The silver snake withdrew suddenly, as if it had been slapped, shrinking into a small bracelet shape around its hostess’s arm. It glared spitefully at Serafine with its beady black eyes. Serafine did not notice the second snake, stretching slowly down the opposite arm, inching its way closer to Serafine’s neck.
“Clever girl, you do not wish to die quickly then. I was willing to give you that since we are kin.”
“You tossed your family aside years ago when you decided to follow the dark one.” Aunt Serafine said.
Her sister laughed a dry rasping sound like wheezing, “I have not the inclination to listen to your judgments. Sleep in seeming sleep! To living death to keep! Except a living dead one reap!”
As the sorceress finished her curse, the snake struck and bit Serafine on her neck.
The enchantress fell gracefully to the stone floor, her black braid tumbling over her face as she lay, unmoving, with her dressing gown spread around her like snow. Serpentine smiled at her handiwork and said maliciously, “Sweet Serafine, you never should have tried to best me. Sleep well, dear sister.”
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