Queen Amber fluttered closer, leaving suffocating fumes behind. The faerie queen paused in front of the princess and smiled. Dangerous warmth spread through Serese, at the faerie’s nearness.
Queen Amber’s husky voice spoke and Serese felt as if she had drunk too many glasses of her aunt’s soothing port. She found herself unable to move away from the enveloping heat radiating from the queen. Serese felt her face turning red like it always did when she remained too long in the summer sun.
“Come look into my palm, Princess Serese. I have news of your mother.”
The opal stone turned bright red in Serese’s hand as the princess pulled the charm out of her bodice. Serese retreated a step as Queen Amber drifted ever closer. Closer. Staring at her with burning eyes, Serese was ensnared.
Serese could not move. She was rooted to the ground as the faerie’s outstretched hand beckoned her. It was impossible to look away from the flickering red stone in Queen Amber’s palm.
Queen Amber held the glowing ruby and a hazy image emanated from the stone. Serese stared at the scene unfolding before her:
Queen Annaliese Argot was forced to the floor before Serpentine, whose boot held her down. Her mother rose to her feet and kissed the sorceress. A black mastiff watched her mother with possessive eyes, as tears fell from Queen Annaliese’s downcast face. The two sisters, sitting side by side on marble thrones in a great hall, entertained a hall filled with goblins, trolls, and other unsavory guests.
It could not be! Her own mother had gone to the dark side. This horrible vision must be some fire faerie trick meant to confuse her.
“It is not a dream, child, it is your destiny. Why do you fight against yourself? Come, give the opal to me and all of your struggles will cease. Its powers are too vast for you. You are not prepared to wield it.”
The princess said, “I refuse to believe you. My mother would never join her sister.”
Queen Amber replied, “Oh, but she has, my dear. Annaliese could only resist the pull of Serpentine for so long. I hold here proof that I do not lie.” Her mother’s diamond crown was lifted before Serese. The faerie queen smiled with pride and malice.
The princess cried out as the opal pinched her hand. It must be true then. Serese pulled away, wiping tears from her eyes.
A black withered stick tumbled out of the fire. Serese watched as it sizzled in the snow. Her heart felt the same as she realized her mother had betrayed all of them.
Queen Amber spoke gently then, “Come to me. The burden you carry is too great. Your Aunt Serpentine seeks only to guide you. Do not believe the lies which surround her.”
Serese was hypnotized by the gleaming ruby which Queen Amber held and she stared at it, transfixed. Then, she took a tentative step toward the fire faerie queen and holding her opal in her own open hand, she offered it to Queen Amber.
The eager fire faerie queen reached out for it when suddenly she screamed.
The opal sent forth a freezing white mist, blanketing the faerie, and drowning her shrieks. The icy mist quenched the fire which soared out of Queen Amber’s grasping hands.
Serese moved then, as if woken from a trance, soaking wet and chilled. The smoke around her had been washed away, along with the faerie queen. There was nothing left of her. Only her mother’s diamond crown remained. It lay on its side in the snow like a sparkling skeleton. Serese could not bear to touch it.
The opal had saved her life. The spell Serese had uttered had been timely. The princess marveled how her eyes had been drawn to that particular page. She vowed to put to memory as many of the verses as she could. Each one obviously had power to impart and she must learn them quickly.
All that remained of her ordeal was a dampened fire with a misty rainbow encircling it. Serese shuddered when she realized how close she had come to giving Serpentine what she wanted. How could she have nearly given the faerie the enchanted opal?
When she thought about what she had nearly done, she sank to her knees and grasping her opal in her wet hands, she said, “Thank you.”
The stone warmed at her touch. Serese cried out as the opal gave her a shock. It felt like tiny teeth biting her. “Bats Breath! I deserve it,” she thought. She would try to be humble and obedient. If she did not listen to the council of others, her quest would fail.
Serese was surprised that the fire faerie’s screams had not awoken her companions. How would she find the words to tell Sir Roan what had nearly transpired? The blessed opal had prevented him from witnessing her foolhardiness. The princess kissed the jewel.
After she retired to their rock shelter, Serese did not notice the watchful gaze of the golden eyed wolf. Sir Roan stared at her long after the princess fell asleep. Then he padded softly into the snow and retrieved the diamond crown.
Chapter Thirteen
Sorceress Serpentine paced in her throne room; a crease between her disdainful eyes. She paused, standing before a black marble table. It held her iridescent crystal ball which she cupped lovingly in her white hands.
The image in the ball floated as if seen through clear lake water—it was vivid but rippling.
Serpentine rested her elbows on the table, allowing her pet serpents to crawl down and coil comfortably before the crystal ball. They too watched the scene unfolding in its liquid depths.
The sorceress observed Lord Forn and his manservant saddle two horses, one which was a black mare stamped with the Argot brand. The image in the crystal ball wavered as the two men rode out of the Calrake castle stable. A few men-at-arms followed on horseback behind as they neared the wooded acreage of Forn Castle.
Serpentine could not fathom how they had escaped her regiment; of course, trolls were known for their brute strength and not for their intellect. They were easily distracted by their stomachs. The excellent array of horseflesh at Forn’s castle may have tempted them. It would not be unheard of to outwit one or two trolls, but twenty of them?
Serpentine stretched, arching her back like an albino panther before straightening again. Her diamond drenched gown shimmered in the candlelight as she turned her cold gaze to her beloved pets.
Her snakes flickered little black kisses on her cheeks, with their forked tongues. The sorceress smiled as she stroked her silvery pets. It would not surprise her if her son had received help from an enchanted breed of lupine.
It was time for her dear boy to return home, where she could be certain he stayed where he was put.
She turned to the goblin that stood at attention, “Grunklin,” she said, “Please see that my renegade fighters are sent to Calrake castle to bring back my son. I want him unharmed; the old man must be killed. They must not fail me. I would hate to see you lose your place.”
Grunklin nodded his misshapen green head and his black whiskers twitched in trepidation. He had been promoted to his position after her former assistant had been dispensed with. He certainly did not want to lose his place or his head. The goblin waddled off to do his queen’s bidding.
Eagerly, Serpentine approached her crystal ball as she awaited the fulfillment of her commands.
The sorceress knew her elite fighters would make short work of her son if she let them; their taste for blood was insatiable. It was why they were so indispensible to her; they had no reservations when she gave them their assignments.
One of her serpents slithered down her arm and she stroked its glistening head.
The crystal ball shimmered. Serpentine placed her white hands on either side of it as she watched the scene unfold within. She smiled as she leaned toward the ball, caressing it with her hands.
Her mercenaries had killed Lord Forn’s men and now drank their remains as if they were discarded wine flasks.
Mere humans had no defense against her pale warriors. The sorceress grinned as her son fought bravely against them. Forn had such fortitude; it was a shame he had not come entirely over to her side. His upbringing lingered in his continued attempts to resist her. If only he would embrace her whole heartedly but she feared Se
rese had her hooks in him.
That girl would be the greatest asset if she could be turned. But she was as pure as the rest of the Argot women. The lot of them was too lily-hearted to do her any good. It was time Forn ravished that proud princess; that flower needed plucking. She would be no good to her until she was corrupted.
A commotion within the crystal ball caught Serpentine’s attention. She watched, mesmerized, as her orders were nearly implemented.
Three renegade warriors flew to the elderly manservant who held them off, with a vial of liquid. The old servant splashed her fighters with it and they withdrew.
But the vial was empty now. They brutalized the manservant until he lay in an unrecognizable bloody heap.
The pale mercenaries did not feast upon the old man’s wizened frame; instead they stayed a respectable distance away from his crumpled form.
Lord Forn slashed at some of her otherworldly fighters but his strength was nothing compared to theirs. They tossed him aside like he was a broken poleax but still he stood on his feet. He managed to nick one of the warriors on its white cheek but the cut quickly healed, leaving no scar behind.
Serpentine grinned when Forn received a vicious slap. It left a red imprint on his cheek; she would deliver one herself when she saw him. Just the same, she noted the white fighter who had disobeyed her order; he would be punished. She had specifically told Grunklin to relay that he not be harmed.
Her son had been tied to the Argot mare and Serpentine looked forward to his arrival. She would release some of her frustration upon the unsuspecting horse.
As for her son, he would answer to her.
There was a troll girl locked in the guest quarters, and Serpentine smiled as she thought of how she would punish Forn.
It always drove him mad when he was forced to dance with trolls. Especially when her entire hall guffawed at Forn’s precise movements, compared to the troll’s bumbling clumsiness. Serpentine still found it amusing when he tried to disobey her commands. She probably ought to have tired of it by now.
Of course, she would have to soothe the troll girl’s disposition for trolls were sensitive despite their imposing size and general ugliness. But the night’s merriment would be worth the loss of a cask of her finest brew.
Meanwhile Serpentine prepared her son’s chamber, even furnishing him with a supper of roasted pork and a hot bath.
Chapter Fourteen
Albrecht was near death when Sir Masland, the dark wolf returned to him. The brave wolf had fought off some of the renegades with his bite, which momentarily slowed them. But even his powers could not stop them; their numbers were too great.
The wolf stretched out beside the old man, resting his shaggy head next to his.
Albrecht rested his bleeding head against the snowy earth and a trickle of blood darkened his battered lips. He grew pale and feebly reached out his hand to the wolf, “I have failed my lord—they have taken him. Only Serese can save my prince now. You must get the key to her,” he whispered.
The wolf breathed onto the manservant’s face. But he could not save him; this merely relieved some of his suffering. He knew his friend was not long for this world.
It was time for the servant to be met by unseen angels and escorted into that place which awaited the pure of heart.
Sir Masland said, with his gruff voice, “You have not failed, my friend. You have done well to keep the key hidden from those who have sought it. You shall receive your reward in our Father’s kingdom.”
Sir Masland sat next to Albrecht, who clumsily placed a bloody hand on his coat. He tried to smile but he could not. The wolf waited by the old manservant’s side until the last ragged breath escaped. Silence followed.
The wolf let out a long sorrowful howl and it was such a heartfelt cry—the other wolves in his order heard it in the next kingdom. Sir Masland sounded the alarm; the key keeper had reached his rest. Now they faced an unscheduled change of plans.
It was always so, Sir Masland thought, the newly departed got their just rewards while the ones left behind had the pain of separation to contend with.
The black wolf would not forget his first master, the man who had raised him. The one who had safely hidden the key all these years. Not even the far-reaching arms of Serpentine had found it.
Sir Masland reached into Albrecht’s vest pocket and with several tugs with his paw, pulled out a rusty iron skeleton key. A leather cord held the ancient key and Sir Masland carefully shrugged it over his head. His thick winter coat nearly hid it for the key was dark with age. He glanced sorrowfully at his departed master. Briskly, he trotted up the same mountain trail which Serese and her own Wolf guardian had taken only days earlier.
He would complete Albrecht’s dying request, turning the key over to Serese. After that, he would assist Lord Forn. That one always managed to get himself into trouble. Now he had managed to get himself captured. Who knew what evil tricks Serpentine had in store for him? k`1`2
Sir Masland had been busy all these years undoing what the sorceress had done. He was getting tired of staying one step ahead of her; it was time that ice queen was done away with.
Chapter Fifteen
The sun rose the next morning, warming Serese and her warriors as they ate a breakfast of stale bread and hard cheese. The misty clouds which had protected them from Serpentine’s view had cleared away, leaving a clean sky behind. The Balzac Mountains glared at them, revealing an ebony tower thrusting spitefully out of its highest peak.
The foothills of that peak were days away, separated by the black waters of the Calrake Lake, which loomed like a tar pit in the valley before them. If they walked at a fast pace, they could reach the lake by late afternoon.
Sparse trees lined the trail they followed and Serese noticed the absence of animal life. Dull green piney shrubs bowed their branches in the slight wind like obsequious servants. She had the uncanny feeling they mocked her.
Jonathan silently led them, for he did not wish to draw attention from whatever inhabited these woods. He had the feeling they were being watched and it unsettled him.
Serese braided her hair as they hiked, tying it with a piece of lace torn from her shift. She could not get the image of her mother, humbled before Serpentine, out of her mind. What if the image she had seen was real? If only she knew. She would not put anything past that faerie; playing cruel tricks would be like her.
Serese thought about the crown the following morning; it had not been in the snow where the fire faerie queen had dropped it. She had not wanted to bring the matter before Sir Roan but suspected she would have to. A wave of shame flooded her. She had nearly given away the opal.
Sir Roan stared back at Serese, with such honest eyes—she knew she had to tell him what had transpired last night.
“Do faeries die?” Serese asked Sir Roan, as she quickened her pace to match his.
The wolf glanced up at her, from under grey brows, and said, “No. They can only be destroyed by powerful magic. Although you have hobbled Queen Amber, for a while, I should think.”
The princess paused, “You saw what happened then? I almost gave her the opal.” Serese’s eyes suddenly filled with tears and she wiped them on a corner of her cloak.
“But you did not and that is all that matters. Your powers are growing. You shall need them when the time comes.” The wolf noticed Serese’s grief-filled eyes.
“I fear my mother has joined her sister, Serpentine. I fear Aunt Serafine is dead. I fear I cannot win against them both.” The princess sighed, swallowing water from her leather skin.
“Let us pray that you do,” the wolf replied, “I am certain your aunt Serafine is still alive. As long as there is life, there is hope for your mother. She may yet be saved.”
“You believe she surrendered to her evil sister then? I had hoped it was a trick played by Queen Amber. I do not understand why my mother released me from the dungeon. It makes no sense.” Serese dabbed at her eyes with her gown’s sleeves for the tears would
not stop falling.
Sir Roan said softly, “It is not for you to understand, my child. It is for you to fulfill your duty. It may well be that your mother, the queen, has a secret agenda which we know not of. It may well be a trick played by the faerie. Either way, you must remain steadfast.”
Jonathan said, “There is a lake up ahead. I could do with a swim. Who will join me?”
Jonathan noticed his companions’ somber moods, “Is all well?” he asked.
Serese said, “I am merely worrying. This gloomy mood will pass.”
Sir Roan glanced at Serese as she straightened her shoulders and replied, “Well shepherd, you do smell like sheep and stale sweat.”
Jonathan laughed, “We could all do with a bit of freshening up, my lady.”
Sir Roan said, “That lake is troubled. You should not enter it. There are creatures there which should be left in peace.”
“What sort of creatures?” Jonathan asked.
“Servants of Serpentine,” the wolf said.
“Could you not be more specific, wolf king?” Jonathan asked.
“It is not likely, considering I have never ventured into Calrake’s polluted waters. Nor have I suffered from curiosity concerning its inhabitants.” Sir Roan scratched behind his ruff as he glanced at the shepherd.
“A water faerie queen rules the lake. She can be capricious; she is kind only to followers of the ancients,” Sir Roan continued.
“Then she will certainly approve of me. See how willingly I have come to fulfill their terrible quest. I should like to meet her,” Serese said.
“If I am not mistaken, she is aware of our presence.” Sir Roan paused and scratched a particularly troubling spot on his rear leg.
Jonathan said, “I think we should leave the capricious water faerie alone. No good ever came of pestering royal ladies, whether faerie or human.”
Serese agreed, “I am not afraid of any royal. I grew up teased, unmercifully, by three sisters; perhaps this queen longs for female company. Besides, I positively itch for want of a bath.”
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