The Golden Princess and the Moon

by Anna Mendell

  The Grey Hawk spoke again. “We should rest, for you have a long and dangerous journey ahead of you. Tomorrow I will show you the entrance into the accursed wood.”

  BOTH ERIK and Dunstan had a restless night troubled by dreams, for the Grey Hawk’s warning brought home to them the danger they were about to face. They awoke at dawn, and the men had already saddled their horses and furnished them with provisions.

  Lodestar was straining to depart, and Erik soothed him and stroked his mane. “You have been well-cared for here. I wonder if you would be so eager to leave if you knew where we were headed?”

  “Horses are loyal creatures,” said the Grey Hawk, riding up beside him, and then he looked down at Dunstan. “So are friends who would follow you into unknown danger. But come, I will bring you to the edge of the Shadowood. It is not far.”

  They journeyed a few hours southwest, passing fields full of blooming trees that grew thicker with elms and linden trees as they rode, until they came up to a wall of stone and slate, ancient but kept in good repair.

  The Grey Hawk spoke. “This marks the boundary to the Shadowood. Those who live near the edge of the wood built it to ward off the unwary and have been tending it for generations. If you continue following it southward, you will find an opening that will let your horses through.” He turned to the prince. “Is there nothing I can say that will dissuade you?”

  “No, Lord Gavin, but I thank you for leading me thus far.”

  The Grey Hawk inclined his head. “There may be something working in this that I do not understand. Perhaps only one who faces myths and legends will have the strength to unite a troubled Lothene. I would that you return to be my king.”

  The Grey Hawk bowed, and Dunstan, watching him ride away, said, “If his allegiance is the only thing that comes out of all this dream-chasing, it will have been worth it.”

  Erik glanced at Dunstan. “You know, you don’t have to come… you can still go back.”

  Dunstan rolled his eyes and spurred his horse to follow the wall due east. Soon he and Erik found an opening and stared into the gap in the wall that led into the dark wood before them. Without a word, Erik rode into the Shadowood.

  THE two companions traveled through the forest, tense and alert. The trees were broad and ancient, and there seemed to be an almost oppressively thick silence in the air. Random shafts of light pierced through the dense canopy above and momentarily dispersed the gloom, but then were inexorably swallowed by the shadows. Erik shivered, feeling stifled by the cloud of silence.

  “Erik, which way are we going?” Dunstan broke the silence. To Erik’s ears, Dunstan’s voice sounded harsh in the hushed wood, even though he had spoken in little more than a whisper.

  “Forward.”

  “Not exactly the specificity I was looking for, but what more did I expect?” Dunstan mumbled to himself.

  They rode deeper into the forest and spoke little, for their voices too were swallowed by the almost tangible thickness of the wood. They stopped a few times to rest their horses and consume their provisions, and Erik tried to speculate how many days they could travel before they ran out of food. He did not relish the idea of hunting in the forest and secretly wondered if the wood might retaliate if they shot down one of its own, then he dismissed the thought as ridiculous.

  In this manner, the first day passed. They encountered nothing, neither wild beast nor anything magical, only eerie silence. The second day, they continued their journey into the heart of the Shadowood and noticed the undergrowth growing more rampant, the hawthorn burgeoning and intertwining with the trees. It became more and more difficult to pick their trail, until they finally came to a spreading morass of thickets that impeded their path. Erik looked ahead and saw that the thicket amassed into an incredibly dense natural barrier, an impenetrable wall of thorns, sharp and jagged, that only seemed to grow taller and thicker the further it went.

  Erik pondered the thorns before him. “This wall is as tall as trees. Let us see how far this growth travels.”

  They rode along the thorn wood for a good hour, before the growth lessened and they were able to round the corner. Erik then saw that the thorn wall continued deep into the wood as far as the eye could see.

  Dunstan whistled. “Well, we are not going to be able to investigate this ungodly large briar patch. I’ve never seen thorn bushes grow so tall. Shall we go a different route?”

  “No… There is something unnatural about this, almost as if the wood is hiding something. I say we continue alongside this hedge, or what is more like a thorn wood, and see if we can spy a pathway or opening.”

  Dunstan did not speak, but his look voiced his skepticism.

  Erik led them alongside the wall of thorns, until he exclaimed, “I think I see something!” He dismounted and carefully picked his way up to a narrow gap in the thorns. “I see a way in!” he called back. “Watch the horses until I return.” He ducked into the wall before Dunstan could protest.

  After he had pierced the outer wall, Erik saw that narrow pathways riddled the thorn wood like a maze. Choosing a path at random, he followed it until it stopped before another impassible wall of thorns, cruel and forbidding. Hacking at it with his sword did no good, for the thorns were unending, and he felt a sting as a hacked piece flew against his cheek. He turned back and began again, trying to keep track of the many branching paths so as not to get lost.

  The riddled paths were narrow, and long, piercing thorns tore at Erik’s flesh and ripped into his cloak. He wiped away the blood, but continued onward, his path leading him to yet another dead end. The prince turned back for the entrance to begin his path anew, but he must have miscalculated somewhere, for, when he thought he should have reached his old trail, he came upon a new path. Erik retraced his steps, but found that yet again he came upon the wrong turn. Looking up at the sky, he saw that he had been in the thorn maze for over an hour and knew that Dunstan must be worried, but, when he called out to his friend, he could hear no response through the thick, tangled walls of thorn. He slashed again at the impenetrable walls with his sword, but could make no dent in the thick growth.

  Realizing that he was hopelessly lost, Erik stopped trying to count his steps and turns, but instead struck at random, hoping to either return to the entrance or reach the mysterious heart of the maze. He lost all track of time, and it was not until it was growing dark that he stumbled from out of the maze back to where Dunstan was waiting for him with the horses. Dunstan looked visibly relieved when he saw the prince, scratched and torn though he was, limping back towards him.

  “Thank the stars, you’ve come back,” he said. “I could find no way into the maze, no matter how hard I looked.”

  Erik did not say anything, but merely took the water flask that Dunstan offered and drank deeply of the cool, refreshing water.

  “I have to back,” he gasped, when he had quenched his parched throat.

  “Go back where?”

  “Into the thorn maze.”

  Dunstan looked at him with concern. “I thought you just explored in there. What did you find?”

  “Nothing. That is why I have to go back.”

  A combination of worry and frustration gave Dunstan’s voice a sharp edge. “What makes you think that there is anything to find? It is nothing but an unnaturally large thorn patch.”

  “Dunstan, she could be in there,” Erik said.

  “Who, your sleeping princess?”

  “Yes, we have to explore the Shadowood thoroughly.”

  “No wonder you want to rescue your princess so desperately. She can’t be sleeping very comfortably in a thorn patch.”

  “Dunstan, you aren’t helping,” Erik said wearily.

  “No, of course not, far be it for me to point out the lunacy of the situation. You have just wasted the entire day getting lost and torn to shreds in a thorn patch, and you have to go back because you found nothing. Which of course you interpret to mean that something must be in there after all, instead of what mo
st would deduce from the situation, which is that there is nothing to be found.”

  Erik ignored Dunstan and scrutinized the top of the thorn walls. “We’d be able to see it over the walls if it was there, wouldn’t we?” he murmured to himself.

  “See what?”

  “The tower?”

  “What tower?”

  “The princess is sleeping in a tower,” Erik snapped. “Don’t you listen to anything I tell you?”

  “Oh, yes, of course, how could I have forgotten? I just thought you said she was in a thorn patch,” Dunstan retorted.

  “A tower in a thorn patch.”

  “A tower in a thorn patch,” Dunstan repeated stupidly.

  The prince stared hard at his friend and then burst out laughing, “I’m sorry Dunstan. It does sound ridiculous if you put it like that. Why don’t we camp for the night? We can decide what to do in the morning.”

  Relief spread across his features, and Dunstan broke out into a grin. “Well, you haven’t been making any sense this entire journey, so why should I expect you to start making sense now? Only, this wood does things to one. I’ve been feeling uneasy ever since we entered.”

  Erik nodded sympathetically, and they both rode a little ways from the thorn wood, so they could find a comfortable ground that wasn’t riddled with thorns to set up camp. They were gathering fallen boughs from the forest floor for a fire, when they heard a howl deep within the wood that set their horses affright. Erik and Dunstan shared a look.

  “Do you think they’ve caught our scent?” Erik asked.

  “Well, they’ve caught something’s scent,” Dunstan said testily. “I knew things had been going too well.”

  “Let’s finish building the fire. Hopefully that will keep the wolves at bay.”

  Erik and Dunstan quickly set the fire blazing, and it burned strong and bright. They sat around the campfire and watched and waited as it grew dark, their hands resting by their bows. They did not have to wait long, however, before they saw pairs of gleaming, yellow eyes glaring at them in the dark. Both Dunstan and the prince stood and strung their bows taut. Dunstan loosed an arrow, and Erik heard a thump and a sharp whine as Dunstan swiftly restrung his bow.

  “It seems they won’t come too near the fire,” Erik observed.

  Dunstan grunted in response, but the prince had spoken too soon, for there came a howl, and then the air around them was full of clamor and the sudden onrush of springing wolves. They were the largest wolves the prince had ever encountered, silver, mammoth, but lean with ferocious power, and deadly. Both of them dropped their bows and grabbed the thick branches they had prepared and thrust them into the fire. They swung the fiery brands with one hand and hacked at the wolves with their swords with the other.

  “We have to protect the horses,” Erik yelled.

  The horses had been tied up to tree branches to keep them from fleeing, and they were screaming and rearing in blind terror. Erik managed to reach them and fight the wolves away, but he saw that the pack was instead gathering around Dunstan. With a cry, Erik saw them overwhelm his friend, and Dunstan went down under the pack.

  Erik struck at the wolves from behind, blind with fury, his heart sore afraid for his friend. Then he heard a sharp call, and the wolves pulled back. He saw Dunstan lying on the ground in his blood and rushed to his side.

  Erik whirled back to face the wolves and saw the tall figure of a woman, dark before the firelight, with the wolves gathering by her side and then disappearing in the woods behind her. The woman’s face was shrouded in the shadows, and all he could see was the redness of her hair in the light of the fire. She lifted her arm, pointed, then turned and followed the wolves into the darkness. Erik almost cried in despair. Ripping apart his tunic, he tried to staunch the blood flowing from Dunstan’s side. He managed to lift his friend and lay him astride his horse, and then he led them in the direction the woman had pointed.

  It was with a mixture of relief and disbelief that he found that they had come before a strange cabin in the deep of the wood. He rushed to the door and pounded on it, crying for help. The door opened by a crack, and an old woman peered fearfully at him.

  “Please,” Erik pleaded, “my friend is gravely injured.”

  The old woman nodded and opened the door wide, and Erik carried Dunstan inside. There was a young woman in the cottage as well, and she helped Erik lower Dunstan onto the only bed in the cottage. The old woman began to bathe Dunstan’s wounds, while the younger one went outside to see to the horses.

  The young woman returned indoors and went without a word to the old woman’s side and helped her tend to Dunstan. Erik stood by feeling helpless. He could see that both women were skilled at treating wounds, and Dunstan remained in semi-consciousness as they cared for him, only murmuring as they gave him a draught of something out of a small bottle.

  “That should help him rest and deal with the pain,” the old woman explained.

  The girl smoothed back Dunstan’s yellow hair, and her touch seemed to soothe him.

  “We’ve done all that we can, and the boy must rest. Why don’t you tell me what you are doing so deep within the Shadowood?” the old woman said.

  Erik was staring with worry at Dunstan’s slumbering form and answered distractedly, “Yes? Oh, I am looking for someone… Do you know if Dunstan will live?”

  The old woman also gazed at Dunstan’s recumbent form. “Yes, I expect he will. His wounds are strange, bloody, but not life-threatening. Nothing vital has been damaged. With enough rest, he should be walking in a week or so.”

  Erik buried his head in his hands, overcome by emotion. “Thank the heavens! I would never have forgiven myself if he had perished following me. He never wanted to come and only followed me because he is my friend.”

  The old woman did not say anything, but the younger one pulled up a chair and gently sat Erik down. She then joined the old woman beside the fireplace, and both remained silent. The prince looked up at them after a moment and thought again how strange it was that there should be a cabin in the middle of the Shadowood and that these two women should live all alone in it.

  He voiced his surprise, and the old woman replied, “My daughter and I are left in peace here, far away from the strife which troubles our land, far from the conflict between Westerners and Midlothians. Those who live in the wood follow the old ways, and the wood shelters us.”

  “There are more of you?”

  “Some. Not many.”

  The old woman fell silent again, and Erik realized that he had not properly answered her question about what he was doing in the wood, nor had he explained who he was. These two women had helped him and Dunstan without question and had opened their home to total strangers, and yet he was the one asking questions.

  He rose to his feet and bowed low. “You must forgive me for my rudeness. Excuse my thoughtlessness in my distress for my friend. I am the Crown Prince, Erik of Lothene. I have come to the Shadowood to find the sleeping princess of legend, though very few have heard of her. Do you know of anything which might aid me in my quest?”

  The old woman pursed her lips and said, “What would you do with the sleeping princess when you found her?”

  “I would wake her, of course.”

  “What makes you think you can? You are a Midlothian, the prince from the line of invaders. Why should I help you find our princess?”

  The prince said softly, “The invasion happened a long time ago.”

  “We in the west have long memories.”

  Erik felt troubled, and the thought occurred to him that the princess might feel the same way, but then he said, “I have dreamed of the princess since I was a young boy and have heard stories about her my whole life. I wish to wake her because I love her and will marry her if she will have me.”

  The old woman snorted, “You, a Midlothian have dreams of the princess? What makes you think they are true dreams, if you even dreamed at all, as you say? I come from a line of women loyal to the princess. M
y mother’s grandmother’s great-grandmother was her loyal handmaid. ‘Tis from her that the art of healing has passed down from generation to generation, as my mother passed it to me, and I to my daughter. Why would the princess appear to you in a dream, and not to me, who has lived my entire life keeping faith with her memory?”

  The prince looked at the healing woman with compassion. She was also one whose life was touched by the princess, and that was why she lived alone with her daughter in the Shadowood. If anyone could help him, this woman could, and yet he would first have to convince her of his trustworthiness. He thought for a moment. “The princess’ handmaid, I’ve heard of her from the stories. She was once a kitchen maid, was she not?”

  The healing woman started visibly and then grew pale. “How do you know? No one outside our family has ever heard of her, let alone known that hidden detail of her life. How do you know?”

  Erik knelt before her and took her hand. “I know because I am meant to find the princess. Because I have met with her and spoken with her, even though it happened in a dream. I must find her and awaken her, or she will forever remain asleep. You must help me. Why else would the forest have sent me to you?”

  The healing woman shook her head in disbelief. Then her daughter spoke for the first time. “Mother, he speaks truly. He must know of the princess. The wood has protected him thus far and sent him to us. Surely it’s not up to us to choose who should or shouldn’t rescue the princess, but to accept and aid the one who is sent.”

  The old woman tore her eyes away from Erik’s earnest gaze and looked down at the floor. “Do you know the story of how the kingdom fell in the northern invasion and what happened to the castle when it fell?” she asked.

  Erik shook his head. “Only what has been recorded in history.”

  “Recorded by Northerners,” she said sharply. “Sit down, Crown Prince, and I will tell you the story as it was passed down to me by my mother, and by her mother’s mother before her, back to when Edwina first recounted the story with tears in her eyes.”