The Maid of Chateau Winslow

by Pippa J Frost

  I tilted my face so he could see the fading yellow bruise marking my cheekbone.

  He gripped my chin in his hand and lifted my face. “He did this to you?”

  “Yes.” I pulled my chin away.

  His jaw set. “I’ll beat the bastard myself! He’d better not show his face around here.”

  “Orell agreed to marry me off to Helias for a price. Auctioned me off like one would a heifer. He will not give me in marriage to any man. When I marry, it will be to a man of my choosing. So, after they passed out from drink, I took what remained of the livestock and left. Don’t trouble yourself with defending my honor with my brother. I’m free of him now. I took a position as a servant and caregiver in Lord Winslow’s household.”

  His brow puckered. “Winslow? He’s been gone for years.”

  “He has returned,” I said.

  “And is living where?”

  “Where do you suppose?” I rested a hand on my hip. “At his estate, of course.”

  “But the place isn’t livable. No one has lived there for years.”

  “Well, I assure you he and his daughters have returned. He’s having the home repaired.”

  “A home of that magnitude would take years to repair,” he said.

  “Perhaps not with a staff the size of his,” I said. “He has offered me room and board with a small salary, and that is more security than I’ve ever had.”

  “It’s better you’re safe than at the mercy of your brother,” he said. “I need to get back to the shop and help Vater.”

  We returned to the boardwalk, and he turned to me and took my hand and held it in his. “Try to stay out of trouble, as it does have a way of finding you.” He winked.

  “There may be some truth in that.” A warmth settled in my belly as I smiled up at him.

  He squeezed my hand and returned my smile before stepping past me and taking off at a jog.

  I stood rooted to the boardwalk, staring after him until Flicker said behind me, “Still daydreaming, are ya?”

  I swung to face him. “Hush.”

  “Well, I can see you didn’t become a meal, as everyone has been saying.”

  “Shh.” I grabbed the shoulder of his tattered brown coat and pulled him back into the shadows. “No, I haven’t, but it appears you weren’t the least bit worried. And to think I call you a friend.” I feigned a pout.

  He lifted a hand to push his far too large hat back from his eyes. His face split with a lopsided grin. “I guessed you probably outwitted that clod. You’re the one with the wits.”

  “Is that so? Well, I’ll take that as you saying something nice to me for a change.”

  He looped his fingers in his vest and rocked back on his heels. “I get my share of listening to women’s ramblings at home. Makes a man wish his hearing weren’t so good.” He bounced on his toes, finding much joy in his musings.

  “You’re impossible,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “I must get back before I’m missed. I wanted to let you know that I’m safe, and you needn’t worry about me.”

  “I was already aware,” he said.

  “But I just told you.”

  His teeth flashed. “Ya did, but I got my sources.”

  “Is that so?” I folded my arms across my chest. “Would it be too much to assume your informers may be the earthmen I see from time to time?”

  He shrugged. “One does not reveal one’s sources.” He wiggled his thick chestnut brows in the way he often did to cheer me up.

  I laughed and informed him of my new position, which he also appeared to know about. Although confused by his desire to keep watch over me, I appreciated the depth of his love. “Have these sources seen my brother?”

  “Not a trace of him; but don’t worry, I put out the word—if any earthmen see or hear of him, they’re to report back to me immediately.”

  I felt a surge of love and admiration as I looked down at him. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For always being there,” I said.

  He waved a hand in dismissal. “It ain’t nothing you wouldn’t do.”

  I embraced him, and he squirmed. I smiled to myself, knowing how he detested signs of affection.

  After we said our goodbyes, I raced back to the hatter’s shop.

  Yara glanced at me when I entered, breathless and flushed. “Did you find what you left?” she asked when I came to stand beside her.

  I held up the receipt I’d tucked into my purse before leaving the dressmaker’s shop. “Indeed.”

  Her brow furrowed, and I avoided meeting her gaze. She had caught me in my lie. Instead of outing me, she carried on as before. I suspected I’d receive a knock on my chamber door after the rest of the house slept.

  In the Alps—The Thief

  The outsider stood at the mouth of the cave and nervously looked back over the sleepy village nestled below. Humans had forged a treaty with the dwarves, agreeing not to enter the mountains uninvited, but the voice had summoned him. The man had awakened as the sun cracked through the canopy of spruces. He lay naked and shivering in a nest of boughs with no recollection of how he’d gotten there.

  The new voice suppressed the usual inhabitant’s ramblings and sequestered itself deep inside the man’s mind. Most of his life, he had smothered the daunting voice saturating his head with confusion, but in recent years it had become more insistent, and he believed it responsible for missing clips of time. The inhabitant fought to seize command of his body, mind, and soul, and the knowledge disquieted the man.

  A lammergeier landed on a crag and displayed its cinnamon chest while eyeing him. The man turned and walked into the cave, pulling the coat he’d taken off the traveling peddler’s body tighter around himself. He swung around at movement behind him, and the picturesque view of the village and snow-covered mountains vanished. He swallowed the nerves gripping his throat.

  “I am here.” His voice reverberated in the dank darkness of the cavern. He heard the scratch of a claw on stone, and a floating orb of fire lit up the narrow passage.

  Do not delay. Follow the light until it goes out. Hot breath tickled his ear, and he whipped around to locate the owner of the voice but found no one. His insides quivered.

  The flame shepherded him along the tunnel and farther underground. In the distance water trickled, and the humidity pasted the shirt to his chest. When the fire ceased its movement the man halted, and his heart lurched into his throat. Below, the floor gave way to a raging underground river. He teetered on the edge, and his arms flailed as he tried to regain his balance.

  You never know when your road will end, a sinister laugh came.

  “You could have warned me,” the man said with a grumble.

  Silence, you imp.

  The man clawed at the invisible hands cutting off his breathing. Veins in his temples bulged, and he felt himself fading. And then his breath returned as the fingers relaxed. Wheezing, he bent and rested his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The harrowing demonstration of the newcomer’s abilities made his heart pound in his chest.

  “What is it you want from me?”

  So many questions, human, it said. Move.

  A force pushed him forward, and he stumbled before catching himself. He’d become clay in the newcomer’s hands.

  Ahead of him, the rattling of chains and the crack of a whip cut the air, and the guiding flame flickered and swept from side to side, providing a view of where the ground fell away. Below, wall torches lit the pit that vibrated with movement. Shackled humans and dwarves struck the stone with pickaxes. They pushed wheelbarrows piled high with gleaming gems, enough to satisfy the greed of any man, into oversized carts hitched to oxen and driven by dwarves. The dwarf masters barked orders and slashed their whips on the bare backs of slaves.

  “What is this?” the man asked.

  Prisoners of war. Does it offend you?

  “No.”

  For decades, we’ve built our kingdoms on the backs of humans and d
warves alike. If you don’t do as I command, I will see you’re imprisoned here for the rest of your days.

  The man gulped.

  Now, move. Keep to the wall, or you will surely meet your death this day.

  A blow to the back of his head sent him staggering forward, and he gripped the wall to keep from plummeting to his death below.

  He trailed fingers along the damp wall until he arrived at a ledge only a handbreadth wide. He gripped the stones that projected from the wall here and there, his breathing rapid and sweat beading his forehead. He lost his footing on loose pebbles and he grasped at a rock, trying to catch himself. His fingers found a secure anchor and he regained his feet. Heart thrashing against his ribcage, he closed his eyes and sighed in relief before gathering himself and sidling onward. He reached the other side without further mishap, and descended the stairs leading into the pit. As he reached the bottom, the flame flickered and went out.

  The man hid in the shadows, observing the slaves. Anxiety pinned his feet to the bedrock. What did the newcomer want with him? A cart of gems rolled past, and he stepped out to grab one. He held the jewel in his hand and a warmth washed over him. Its radiance pulsed the blood through his veins faster and faster. He licked his lips and regarded his reflection in the gem. The mines held the means for a better life. He could become lord of a castle in the heart of Europe, with servants to wait on him and maidens to warm his bed. The thrill of such a life thundered in his chest.

  A whip snapped, and the wind of its passage breezed by his face. He jumped and dropped the gem and it clunked at his feet before fading into the shadows.

  Do you think you can steal from me? It will be the last thought you will have, the voice boomed in his head, and he covered his ears to quiet the shrill echo. Move, or I will slit your throat where you stand.

  The man stepped into the midst of the toiling slaves. Clothed only in rags, their bodies greased with grime and sweat, the men and women moved mechanically, their gaunt faces devoid of emotion. An older man with a hunched back and straggly blond hair straightened and walked toward him. Vater? Tears congregated in his throat. No. He searched the man’s face as he drew nearer. Vater!

  He grasped the man’s arm as he passed, and it felt frail under his grip. “Vater, it is me.” The man looked at him with blank eyes, no recognition reflected in his gaze. “Vater, it’s Orell.” He gestured at himself.

  “Move along,” a voice said. A whip split the air and tore the flesh of his vater’s back, scarred with years under the lash.

  Orell caught him before he hit the ground, and a soft whimper escaped his vater’s lips. How did he get here?

  “Get up,” a dwarf master said. “You!” The whip came again, and Orell screamed as the blow found his back.

  Orell helped his vater to his feet, then whirled on the dwarf who stood on the driver’s seat of the cart. He clutched the earthman’s throat in his hand and squeezed. Tighter and tighter. “I’ll kill you for this.”

  The dwarf’s face reddened as he struggled for breath. He scratched and slapped at Orell’s hand, but it was the earthman’s glazed yellow eyes that gave him pause. The dwarf looked through him, as if a spirit didn’t exist in his body. He was as much an empty puppet as the slaves.

  Enough, the voice roared.

  Orell released the earthman, and he landed on the ground in a heap. A jarring pain shot through Orell’s head, and he clasped it with both hands as his knees buckled.

  How dare you come into my kingdom and attack my men.

  “Stop. Make it stop! I will do as you say,” he cried.

  The chiseling in his head stopped, and he stood and cast a glance at his vater, lying on the ground, a heap of bones and flesh. He bit down hard and turned and strode out of the pits. Silent tears streamed down his face. Hate erupted in his chest for the darkness that had summoned him, but like a moth drawn to fire he trudged on, smothering the sob wavering in his chest. I will come back, he promised.

  Soon you won’t care if he lives or dies, the voice said.

  Never!

  The underground river came into view and grew still as he reached it. Burning golden blocks floated upon it, paving a way to the other side. A woman with waist-length, silver-white tresses who wore a swirling gown of blue flashed, then faded, before reappearing, as though she were a spirit that haunted the caves. She held a scroll that glowed like the sun had set upon the Earth. The intensity in her violet eyes spoke a warning. “You must not give in to him. He will use you for his purposes and leave you a corpse.”

  The emaciated face of his vater seized his mind, and Orell ignored her warning and crossed to the other side. “Go away,” he said.

  She strode—or floated, he couldn’t tell—to stand in front of him. “No, you must listen. All of creation is in danger. King Gian uses black magic to make his tribesmen masters over your kind.” Her skin shimmered like the glistening of a first snowfall. Intrigued by the ethereal being, he hesitated.

  She summoned him with crystalline fingers. “Come, let me show you something.”

  As though in a trance, he followed. The wraith stopped when she came to a cavity in the wall and moved back. “See for yourself.”

  A chamber expanded before him, and he shrank back. The tower of human and dwarf corpses rose as far as the eye could see.

  “All his failed subjects. You will be next if you don’t heed my words,” she said.

  Do you want the life I’ve promised you? A life where you want no more, where hunger doesn’t tear at your belly and cold doesn’t chew through your bones? The voice battled for its position in Orell’s head.

  The celestial and the summoner appeared unaware of the other’s existence.

  She stepped forward and touched his arm. He sprang back at her touch, which ran cold, then hot. “Please, heed my warning.” As sudden as the celestial appeared, she vanished.

  The guiding flame glided down a serpentine tunnel that ended at a lava moat surrounding a small island. In the center stood a hooded figure cloaked in dark furs, flanked by two towering lava sentinels with hollow black eyes and gnarled staves.

  “You’ve made it, Seelenfresser,” the voice said. “Come closer, so I may look upon you.”

  Seelenfresser? Curiosity pushed his feet forward until he stood before the cloaked figure. The heat radiating from the guards made his flesh tingle like the flair of a sunburn. The hooded being kept his head lowered.

  “Who are you, and where is the treasure you promised?” Orell asked.

  “Shouldn’t you be asking what it is I want from you, Seelenfresser?”

  “I know not who you speak of, but I am Orell Fürst, son of Timo Fürst. A man that went missing ten years ago.”

  “I recall this man.”

  “You should, you have him imprisoned in your mines.” Orell took a step forward, his hands clenched at his sides. The lava sentinels flared and forced him back.

  An eerie chuckle crackled from the confines of the hood. “And he’s lucky of that. We found him trying to steal from us, and as a punishment I condemned him to a life sentence in the mines.”

  “And what of his wife? You want me to believe a woman that healed the sick and cared for the poor while singing of virtue until her children’s ears bled was also a thief?”

  Silence fell. After moments passed, the cloaked figure spoke again. “Yes, there was a woman around the time we captured the man, but she was already dead. Gutted by her own husband.”

  Orell envisioned his mutter’s blood painting the mountain’s earth. “Nothing less than she deserved. She was a nit that needed squashing.”

  “One who hates his own mutter so is a man without a soul.” The cloaked figured sucked back a sharp breath of pleasure. “I’ve been watching you, wondering if you would be the one to help me. The seed of darkness that inhabits you is the final element in the unification of the Zwilling and Vormacht.”

  “Seelenfresser. Zwilling. Vormacht. What the hell are you referring to?”

 
; “We believe you hold an element of the Zwilling power.”

  “Me?” Orell pointed a finger at himself, then threw back his head and laughed.

  A throaty rumble came from the cloaked figure. “What is so funny?”

  “If I had any power, I’d have figured it out by now. Don’t ya think?”

  “Not if you were unaware it existed, or mistook it for something else.”

  “All right, say I appease you and I am this Seelenfresser. What power am I supposed to possess?” He was desperate for a turn of luck. Valentina had run off, or had become prey to creatures of the forest, and the small fortune he would have received from Helias had gone with her. If he found her alive, he’d break her delicate neck himself.

  “If I am correct, you are the darkness. The devourer of souls.” The cloaked figure lowered his hood.

  Orell narrowed his eyes before breaking into laughter. “You’re a dwarf! And a blind one at that.” He turned away and kicked at the flagstone with the tip of his boot. “You had me there for a moment. Almost had me believing your blabbering.” He wiped a hand over his face and cursed himself for the flicker of hope that had buoyed in him. The dwarf had taken advantage of his shake of lousy luck and his desperation.

  “One does not need eyes when they have magic to show the way,” the dwarf hissed. Scars ran from the earthman’s nose to his ears and blue-haloed irises shone through his milky corneas. Ropes of black hair moved like live roots creeping over the forest floor. “My enemies thought they would weaken me by poking out my eyes. And they did for a while, until I found black magic in the Totholz forest, in the land where men roam the earth as beasts and the beasts become men.”

  “What black magic?”

  “The magic to raise the Vormacht. The supreme power.”

  Orell frowned and shook his head in confusion. “Your dwarf voodoo has no meaning to me. What do you want with me?” he snapped.

  “Humans act with their hearts, and that makes them susceptible. That weakness of the mortals will always be their downfall. Tell me, Seelenfresser, do you wish to roll in the muck with pigs, or do you desire to sit amongst gods?”