Enchantress

by Christine Schumaker

  He remembered when she had given him his own stallion and had let him jump, without any proper training. Of course, he had fallen; breaking his leg and Serpentine had destroyed the magnificent horse. He had sat by the dying animal as its wild brown eyes focused on him with trust.

  Lord Forn knew he would meet a similar fate. There was no goodness in his stepmother’s heart. Perhaps if she had not been rejected by love all those years ago…

  He found his fevered mind drifting to a time when he was still young. He had played in the Calrake castle gardens. He wielded a wooden sword, thrashing at tall bushes, frightening sparrows and squirrels away with his warrior cries.

  He recalled his mother, a gracious, brown-eyed elfin princess with pointed ears, who had admonished him not to slash the roses. She had told him they must be treated with respect for their great ancestress was a magical rosebush.

  He had asked her what she meant and she had told him, “Once there were two twin princesses in love with the same prince. They had shared everything, until this fine prince split them apart. The older ebony-haired twin, Princess Annaliese, captured the prince’s heart and the younger twin’s heart became twisted. Princess Serei sought an elfin spell, a rose potion to erase the love the prince had for her sister. She sought to turn his love to her. The spell took all of the love out of the younger golden-haired girl’s heart instead. From that day forth, she was known as Serpentine, for the sly bend of her heart. Her cruelty caused her to be banished from her kingdom.”

  He had asked then, “What became of the golden-haired twin? Was she ever cured?”

  Her reply had been, “Not yet, my child. Only death can set her free now. But her sister made a fine match. You have heard of Queen Argot.”

  His loving mother had smoothed his hair out of his sweaty face with her soft hands. Her legs were strong where he embraced her through the folds of her ruby studded gown; she had smelled like grass and fresh lavender.

  It amazed him how he remembered small details about his real mother. A cold chill entered his heart as the chamber door opened and an altogether different female entered.

  Lord Forn smiled grimly at Serpentine, “You have not forgotten how to make a potent belly draught. Precious time is wasted on my recovery. I could be charming Serese out of her necklace now.”

  Serpentine crept closer to her son’s massive bed, delicately lifting her white gown while petting the silver snake on her arm.

  The smaller snake lay coiled in the braided nest of hair on her head. The sorceress placed a cold white hand on Forn’s forehead, frowning as he flinched.

  “If I believed you were truly intending to fetch her, you would be on your way. Instead, the connection between you two grows stronger. Rumors of foul deeds have made their way to me. My messengers tell me the Argot girl has resisted the Earthen Faerie Queen.”

  Lord Forn played dumb, “Has she then? It seems her power is growing.” The lord could not stop a small grin from appearing.

  Serpentine slapped him, causing the lord to wince as she said, “Do not toy with me, Forn. How did you resist my commands? I ordered you to dance with Ughilda and instead you freed the troll maiden.”

  The icy sorceress laid a pale hand on her son’s stomach and it clenched as she caused him further distress. He gritted his teeth against the onslaught but uttered not a word of protest. Instead, he said, “It seems, dear mother, you are losing your control over me. Princess Serese nears the end of her quest and my freedom grows.”

  Serpentine then laid her other hand on his forehead and a white mark appeared as she bled the warmth from him. Lord Forn shivered but still he smiled as if he had not a care in the world. Never mind, his brown eyes watered from the chilling pain his stepmother inflicted.

  “I will wipe that grin off your face, dear son. You and your wayward intended will both submit to me. I know King Argot will not abandon his favorite daughter. I must bolster my troops. It is high time that man paid for what he has done.”

  Serpentine left him, locking the door while Lord Forn shook his head and sighed. He did not have much time. She would make him suffer before death’s welcome embrace carried him home. Only, he wanted to live more than ever; Serese had given him hope and a purpose.

  The cold touch of his stepmother’s hand left him longing for Serese’s healing presence. He wanted to press her sweet body against his and kiss her delicious lips until she cried out in ecstasy. Then he wanted to lock her in his Calrake bed room until she surrendered herself willingly to him. Until she told him her heart belonged to him alone. He needed her love.

  His stomach squeezed and he wondered how the hand of a giant had got in there to toy with his innards. The pain made him gasp as he slowly, while bent over double, got out of his bed.

  He painstakingly dressed himself, pausing to allow the clenching fist in his stomach to loosen its hold. Finally, he buckled on his sword belt and sheathed his sword.

  Lastly, he placed his black woolen cloak around his shoulders.

  He held his hand before the iron door latched and whispered an elfin spell under his breath. His words unlocked the door and he was surprised to see the hall empty of goblin sentries.

  Was he too weak to even be considered a threat? He was so eager to leave; he did not question whether it was a trap.

  He staggered out of the tower and to the stables where he saddled his horse. Sweat fell from his brow as he mounted his stallion, spurring the black horse away.

  Serpentine smiled as she watched her son’s desertion from her window. The sorceress did not say a word as she witnessed the betrayal of her stolen son. Instead, she nodded to the goblin assistant who stood next to her as her previous orders were dispatched.

  Serpentine stretched forth her right arm, pointing it at her stepson. Lord Forn fell limply from his horse.

  Two black-robed goblins gathered up the fallen prince, carrying him into the fortress and depositing him back into his bed.

  This time, one dozen goblin guards were stationed in the stone hallway outside the lord’s bedroom.

  A wooden, enchanted bar had been fixed over his door, suitably preventing any future escapes he might be inclined to attempt. A small square hole had been cut into the door to allow the passing of food.

  Serpentine paced in her work room, her shimmering gown swishing with her methodical steps. She had tested him, hoping that perhaps Lord Forn’s loyalties were still with her. They were not.

  But she need not trouble herself with the particulars of her vengeance upon him today; Forn would wait. She would finish him when she had the time to do it properly and slowly.

  Now, she had a battle to plan and she strode over to her spell books, searching for a dusty volume. Serpentine had never fought fairly. Withdrawing an ancient volume on the cursing of weaponry, she opened its musty pages and began her preparations.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Princess Serese slept, curled next to the side of the snoring wolf as she stirred in her sleep, snuggling closer into the warmth of his coat. Her right hand held her opal charm as she rested. Jonathan admired her as he sat next to the fire, guarding them.

  He had never met a girl like her. She was so capable. Of course, the brush with that magical rose had only improved her loveliness. It was difficult not to stare at her like a lowly peasant. It took all of his self-possession to behave normally; he was determined not to humiliate himself.

  Jonathan watched as Serese woke up, grasping her braid with its escaping tendrils and pushing it out of her face. She rubbed sleep out of her eyes as she peered into the shifting depths of the opal, noticing as a picture formed in its surface.

  A green, thriving oak tree grew in the Calrake Castle courtyard. The grey weathered fortress was now shining white, its formerly thorny grounds alive with vibrant roses and violets. Two toddler children played with a leather ball in the rose garden. A younger version of Serese giggled wholeheartedly as Lord Forn pushed her on a swing. She kicked her golden slippers off into a bed of irise
s and the little boy ran to retrieve them. Lord Forn chuckled as the little boy proudly held his sister’s shoes aloft with a grin. Serese stood by the trunk of a willow tree and observed her family with a tender smile upon her face.

  “Was it a good vision?” Jonathan asked as he chewed thoughtfully on a strip of dried beef.

  “I think I am meant to marry Lord Forn; my father was not amiss in arranging our alliance. I will have twins, a boy and a girl, by him.”

  “Is it certain, this vision?” Jonathan asked.

  “I believe it is a foretaste of what may come if we vanquish Serpentine.”

  Sir Roan had awakened and after scratching a particularly bothersome spot behind his ear, he said, “I knew Lord Forn as a young lad before Serpentine stole him. He had a pet frog which he fed with crickets from the river bed. When it escaped from its enclosure, Lord Forn had cried for a week. If he were himself, he would be a fine match.”

  “I always hoped I might have a say in who I marry. How can you be told whom to love?” Serese sat up, seeking out the wise eyes of Sir Roan.

  Jonathan asked, “Why not choose your own husband then? If you succeed in killing Serpentine, you will be queen. Then, no one may boss you.”

  Serese smiled faintly, “I feel drawn to Lord Forn. But, if I break his spell, will he want me for myself or only for what I have done for him?”

  Jonathan said, “Of course, he will want you for yourself. Have you not seen yourself? If I could, I would marry you.”

  Serese raised her eyebrow and said, “I believe you would. You must know my feelings for you are those of a brother. I hope I have not played you false, Jonathan.”

  “Thanks for not calling me ‘shepherd’. I know your heart lies elsewhere. I am only pointing out that any man who wins you had better know what a prize he is getting, or else he will answer to me.”

  Serese smiled then. “I will bear that in mind.”

  Sir Roan looked at the stars under the vast sky. “I believe you and your prince will prevail.”

  Serese asked, “You do not fear I will fail? I wish I knew what power this opal possessed. I feel myself changing in so many ways but this jewel is such a mystery.”

  Sir Roan said, “You will control all green, living things. You will be able to heal those affected by darkness. Unless they are entirely consumed. Then they are beyond hope. Serpentine longs for the opal in order to restore her dark kingdom. She does not realize the opal in her hands will only bring more death.”

  I cannot tell them how frightened I am. I hope the ancients have not made a mistake in choosing me. I pray I am not leading us all to our deaths.

  “Day is approaching, shall we start, your majesty?” Jonathan asked.

  Serese stood, “Yes, there is no sense in prolonging our duty,” but her tone suggested otherwise.

  The crisp night air changed as the sun shone, alighting the travelers below with unseasonably warm comfort.

  As they walked, they chewed dried prunes, eating them slowly, for they were nearing the end of their provisions.

  Serese led the way until midday when Sir Roan sniffed the air and ran ahead. Jonathan glanced inquisitively at her.

  She said, “I trust his senses. Let us follow him at a distance. Draw your bow, just in case,” and Serese withdrew her dagger from her boot, holding it, tucked under her gown’s sleeve.

  They followed the icy patches on the rocky trail. Serese let the shepherd take the lead.

  They turned a corner and looked down into the valley before them where they noticed the stark darkness of the cursed forest.

  The Forbidden forest, as the villagers had named it, was not ventured into. The tangled acres of trees were rumored to be haunted by ill spirits who left their victims horribly damaged. Those who survived their jaunt into The Forbidden forest came out barely alive and their nightmares never ceased. Many village families had relatives hidden away who had never recovered their right minds after being found. It was almost better to not be rescued at all.

  They approached Sir Roan on the downward slope of the mountain only to see he was not alone.

  In the midst of a small grassy area, six wolves were on their haunches in a circle, while he stood in the center of the ring. Their wolf heads leaned to one side and their tails swished as they listened to their leader.

  Jonathan knew Sir Roan had been gifted by the elves; he hadn’t known there were more of them. The shepherd felt as if he had entered a mystical realm, one normally denied mortals and it put him out of sorts. The wolves he had been formerly acquainted with had died by his hand after attempting to snatch his lambs. These creatures were entirely different but he could not forget his past experiences with such beasts, not that easily.

  Serese paused outside the wolves’ circle as they turned of one accord and stared at her. It seemed as if their golden glares judged her and the lack of trust seen there irritated Serese. After all she had endured in order to set all of the kingdoms free; she would not tolerate their doubt. “I am not your enemy. I will face a more difficult battle than any of you. A more challenging one, no mortal has been asked to fulfill. Is this how you greet your future queen?”

  All but one of the wolves seemed ashamed, if their lowered heads were any indication. A lone grey wolf narrowed his eyes and asked, “How can we be certain you are not an imposter, come to trick us into joining a war we cannot win?”

  “You will have to take me on faith.” Serese knew she could perform some small magic but the enchanted wolves should not ask it of her. Their lack of confidence in her was appalling.

  She supposed the old grey whiskered-wolf desired proof of her claims. Serese beckoned the contrary wolf to come closer. The princess raised her head so the wolf could see the mark under her chin. “Will this suffice?” The anger in her voice humbled the wolf and he turned away. He scratched at the snowy ground with his forepaw, “Forgive me, your Highness.”

  Serese rose to her feet, “What a simple matter it is to accept me when the truth of my mark is before you. But because of your unbelief, I will ask the opal to display some of its valuable power. I need your minds to be at rest.”

  Previously, she had always waited for her opal to initiate contact with her. She would wake it. One of the skills Sir Roan had told her she would eventually master came to mind. She recalled the songs her mother sang to her in their garden and one sprang to the forefront of her mind.

  “Master Unseen, Grant me your green, His doubt and fear, be duly gleaned.” The spell sprung out of her mouth. Serese grasped her opal, holding it in her hand which she stretched out before her. The wolves shied away from her when the gemstone began to glow. Serese smiled when the elderly cross wolf backed away, nervously tossing his head.

  A pulsing pain began in her temples as she narrowed her eyes and trained her gaze on a frozen tree. How exactly should she accomplish this demonstration? She remembered her favorite tree. Its image appeared in the stone’s surface-a verdant Cherry tree.

  Slowly, tiny buds formed on the limbs and the branches unfurled with thriving green leaves. Her headache worsened but Serese ignored the pain as the opal shone forth a pale green light.

  She sensed the life within the sleeping tree and silently she spoke to it, using her thoughts alone. She coaxed it with her mind, gently waking it from its deep slumber. Serese asked it to leave its winter sleep behind.

  A stirring began in its icy branches. Serese caressed its bare limbs. The hibernating tree obeyed her instructions, as its dry limbs woke from their icy nap.

  The branches sprouted as hundreds of leaves opened in unison. Serese wiped sweat away from her brow and her hand which held the opal shook, but the princess smiled.

  The sight of the transformed tree brought forth amazed yips from the stunned wolves who gathered around Serese, kneeling on their forepaws around her. “Henceforth, we function as one entity. If we do not cling together, we will be torn apart. There are no second chances in battle, do you understand?” Serese asked in a commanding
tone. She stared down at the abashed wolf. He whined and placed his muzzle at her feet.

  Sir Roan chided, “Well, Whitefoot, I believe that answers your question. Does anyone else doubt that Serese is the chosen one?”

  Jonathan touched the tree’s branches and shook his head. This new side of Serese intimidated him. He would try not to provoke future arguments with her. No other girl had such a sharp tongue. That opal functioned as an extension of her magic and keeping his distance from it would also be wise. It served its mistress and their moods seemed to run similar. Jonathan did not want any retaliating streams of light aimed in his direction.

  Sir Roan commanded his pack with a stare. The wolves settled around Sir Roan and Jonathan stepped on the doubter’s tail. The grey wolf barked in indignation. Jonathan ignored the wolf’s accusing stare—anyone who besmirched Serese’s reputation deserved no less.

  Sir Roan said, “Let us strategize. How shall we mount our attack on the sorceress?”

  A brown wolf suggested, “An approach from the shelter of the black caves would offer excellent cover. The black gate to her tower is on rocky terrain—the caves there are not easily accessible.”

  “Yes, but those caves are rumored to be inhabited by a great dragon. Surely, we cannot be expected to sacrifice ourselves so needlessly.” A tan wolf with angry eyes and a nervous tail argued.

  Sir Roan scolded, “Pierre, it is our duty to protect Serese, at whatever cost to us. Watch yourself!”

  Pierre bowed his head before his king, whining in the back of his throat. He did not want to stir the mighty opal’s wrath.

  “Krimsworth, the caves behind the black gate are an excellent idea. But we need reinforcements from Argot, or, at the least, help from the Night dwellers.” Sir Roan said.

  Another wolf asked, “Are you certain these Night dwellers would join us? They care only for jewels and the weaving of gold into tapestries. They have never concerned themselves with the affairs of men.”