The Golden Princess and the Moon

by Anna Mendell

  “I swear, Dunstan.”

  “You have to,” said Dunstan, smiling weakly. “Your father will have me flayed alive if I return to the castle without you.”

  Erik clasped his friend’s hand and then bade farewell to the old woman and her daughter. He mounted Lodestar and began the day’s journey to Barden’s Hall. It was early evening before he reached the top of the ridge the old woman had described, and he was just able to discern the large, timbered hall through the trees a far distance below.

  During his journey, Erik had spent hours reflecting on his last encounter with the princess. The fear gripped him that she might never see him as anything other than a usurper to the throne and the murderer of her people. What had happened hundreds of years ago was new and present to her, but he resolved that it did not matter if Rosa returned his love or no. It was enough that he loved her and that he saved her. That was all.

  Dusk was creeping in by the time Erik reached the hall where lived Barden of the Winds, and Erik wondered what sort of man would dwell deep in the Shadowood. A large iron knocker hung on the door, engraved with the image of a boar with two projecting tusks. He gripped the handle and gave three heavy knocks, then waited. Presently the door opened to a narrow crack, and a small pair of eyes gleamed up at him from below. The prince saw that they belonged to a young boy.

  “A fair evening to you.” Erik smiled down at the boy. “I have come seeking Barden of the Winds and shelter for the night. May I come in?”

  The heavy door was slammed shut, and Erik was considering knocking again when it was opened, and a tall woman, her dark hair streaked with grey, stood before him. The prince bowed.

  “You come seeking my husband?”

  “The healing woman by the thorn wood sent me. She said your husband could aid me on my journey.”

  The woman stared at him hard and then let him in without a word.

  “I have a horse outside.”

  She sent the boy to tend to Erik’s horse with a wave of her head and then led the prince to a spacious hall lit by a large fire. Seated at the head of a long table heaped with food was a man with iron grey hair and a face set as hard as steel. Down one side of the table sat three young women, two dark and one fair, and on the other side was one boy on the cusp of manhood.

  Erik bowed to all, saying, “My apologies for disturbing your evening meal. I was sent by the healing woman by the thorn wood to request your aid. May I have shelter for the night?”

  Barden of the Winds gave the prince a searching glance and gestured to the table. “Would you join us? We have a place set for you at our table.”

  Erik looked down in surprise and saw that there was indeed a place reserved for him by the eldest boy at his host’s right. He took his seat, and the woman sat opposite her husband. The youngest boy, who had finished tending to Erik’s horse, had just slipped in as well to sit at the other side of his elder brother.

  “Now that we are all here, we can begin,” said Barden, and they all helped themselves to the food before them in a clatter of platters and silverware.

  “Aelwyn, why don’t you serve our guest some wine?” Barden said.

  The young woman sitting opposite the prince rose and took the flagon from the middle of the table to fill his goblet with a dark ale.

  “As you can see,” Barden continued, “we have simple manners and simple fare in our home. You must be used to grander meals, Erik, Crown Prince of Lothene.”

  “You know who I am and knew to expect me. How is that?” Erik asked.

  Barden smiled enigmatically. “The trees whisper secrets, and the winds carry their tales to me. They told me you were coming, but did not tell me what you are seeking. We will discuss that after our meal.”

  Erik nodded to the others at the table. “Are these your sons and daughters?”

  “Indeed.” Barden smiled and showed his teeth. “You see my three daughters and my two youngest sons. I have two more sons, but they have left the woods and travel abroad to make their fortune.”

  The prince glanced at the three women and thought with pity that they must find it a lonely life in the wood. Barden seemed to read his thoughts, for he said, “My daughters will also one day leave the wood, when they have found husbands. Are not my daughters beautiful to behold, Crown Prince of Lothene?”

  “They are indeed, good sir,” said Erik, speaking the truth, for Barden’s daughters were as lovely and regal as the women in his father’s court.

  “My daughter, Aelwyn, is particularly beautiful and will be the first to be married.”

  Aelwyn did not speak, but merely crumbled the bread on her plate. Erik did not know how to respond, so he simply nodded. Then he turned to his host’s wife. “You have my thanks for this meal. I was surprised when the healing woman told me that there were others living in the Shadowood. Those living by the outskirts of the forest tell many dark tales of its danger. I, too, have seen glimmers of strange things.”

  The woman remained silent, and her husband answered for her. “Those dark tales, as you call them, were spread by those new to the land, who found that the wood resisted their invasion and withheld its secrets. These tales are also an attempt to stamp out our old way of life, though it is also true that a dark wildness was loosed after the kingdom fell, and it gathers thickest in the Shadowood.”

  “And you do not find it dangerous to live here?” Erik asked.

  “There are always dangers, my prince. But at least here we live in peace and can live by the old ways undisturbed.” He smiled at the prince, but his smile was not friendly, and Erik saw that he stood on a razor’s edge before his host. Erik fell silent, and Barden stood. “I see the prince has finished his meal. Why don’t the others leave us, and you can tell me of what you seek and how I can best assist you.”

  Barden’s wife and his children all rose and filed through the large double doors, leaving Erik alone with his host.

  “More wine, my prince?” Barden gestured to the flagon, and Erik poured himself and his host another glass. But Barden did not touch his wine and said, “Now tell me what it is that you seek.”

  “I am seeking the Dark Tower that stands in the heart of the thorn wood. The healing woman said that you would know if there is a secret entrance to the labyrinth and how to find the way through it.”

  Barden was silent for a moment and then asked softly, “And what does the prince seek in the Dark Tower?”

  “The sleeping princess.”

  Barden strode to the fireplace to stare into the crackling flames, then turned to the prince, his eyes dancing with the light of the fire, and said, “The old stories are silent and confused with regards to the sleeping princess. No one knows if she is real, or if she can be wakened.”

  “She is real,” Erik said firmly.

  “What will you do when you find her?”

  “I will wake her.”

  Barden waited for Erik to say more, but the prince remained silent. Barden turned away and said, “You should retire for the night. A room has been prepared for you. Tonight I will speak to the winds and find out what they know of the thorn wood.”

  Erik inclined his head. “You have my thanks for your hospitality and assistance. I am in your debt.”

  Barden’s eyes gleamed. “It is no small thing to be owed a favor by the crown prince. I am sure that he repays his debts with honor.”

  Barden’s wife entered before the prince could respond, and Erik followed her up the stairs to the room she had prepared for him. He was half-way undressed when he heard a soft knocking at the door. He opened it, and there stood Aelwyn, her unbound dark hair tumbling down to her waist.

  “I have come to help the prince ready for bed.”

  Erik shook his head and said firmly, “Thank you, Aelwyn, but I do not require any assistance. Why don’t you go to sleep?”

  Aelwyn did not leave, however, but asked, “Does the prince desire company?”

  Erik looked at the girl and saw that she was beautiful. Her dark eyes
were large and her neck was long and white, and he saw that her lips trembled. The prince spoke softly to her. “Did your father send you?”

  Aelwyn nodded.

  The prince took her hand and kissed it. “I thank you, Aelywn, but my heart belongs to another, and I would never do anything to dishonor her or you.”

  The girl’s eyes filled with tears as she snatched her hand away and fled from the prince. Erik sighed and closed the door. As he lay down on the bed, he feared what Aelwyn’s visit would bode for him and her father in the morning. Barden had named his price, and Erik had just refused to pay it.

  When Erik greeted Barden the following morning, the iron-haired man made no reference to any of the events that had occurred the night before. He greeted the prince with an amiable smile, and they shared a meal alone together, but the prince felt that Barden was like the wise, old wolf, waiting to strike when the time was right.

  When they finished, his host said, “Last night I sent the four winds to the four corners of the wood. The north and south wind returned without any secrets to tell. The east wind came next and bore secrets, but nothing to do with the sleeping princess in the tower. The west wind came last and whispered softly in my ear and murmured of a tower and a hidden way, dark and secret.”

  “Will you tell me that secret way?” Erik asked, trying to hide the misgiving in his voice.

  “Gladly, my prince, for what use could this secret be to me? I cannot waken the princess. Ride due west. The west wind shall accompany you and reveal the secret way to you when it is time.”

  “Due west,” Erik pondered, “but is that not further away from the thorn wood?” The prince gravely studied the man who spoke with the winds, who was tall and lordly, but whose face was as unknowable as the Shadowood itself.

  “Do you doubt me, crown prince? Do you fear that I would lead you astray? It is true that I bear no great love for Midlothians, but to you, at least, I have shown nothing but my most generous hospitality. Spurn that gift at your peril… but you may believe what you will.”

  Erik bowed low to his host. “My apologies if I appear hesitant. It is against my nature to leap blindly, though that is all I have been doing since I began my quest. I will do as you say. Is there anything I can do to repay you for your kindness?”

  Barden shook his head dismissively. “To see a legend come to life again would be repayment enough. There is nothing that I require.”

  The prince felt a nagging doubt over his host’s seemingly selfless generosity, but he didn’t see how following Barden’s advice could leave him any worse off than he was now, so he bid farewell to his host and rode due west with the sun rising behind him.

  BY the time the sun reached its noonday zenith, the forest air was thick and sweltering despite the canopy of leaves, and Erik’s sweaty tunic clung to his back. He dismounted to give Lodestar a break and dig into his provisions. There was no hint of leaves stirring or the faintest breath of wind, and, as he wiped his brow, he wondered if the west wind would come to guide him as Barden promised. His doubts about Barden were mounting, and he was readying his plans to return to the thorn wood and navigate the maze on his own, when a sharp gust of wind suddenly ripped through his hair and clothes, sending Lodestar’s tail and mane flapping and whipping the dry leaves into a crackling whirlpool that encircled them.

  Erik leapt onto his horse and galloped with the wind lashing him onward, a surging roar pressing him from behind, nipping Lodestar’s ankles and leading him through the wood at a mad pace until he reached the foot of a tall hill. It pressed him up the steep climb, Lodestar’s hoofs stumbling and scraping over the loose rocks. When he reached the crest of the hill, the wind instantly quelled, a hushed silence replacing the wind’s vast roar. It took Erik a moment to catch his breath and regain his bearings, but, when he did, he saw that he had a prime view of the forest below. Craning his neck, he scanned the landscape, catching sight of a distant, dark form so enveloped in mist that he could not clearly discern its shape.

  “Is that the tower?” he whispered and strained against his saddle for a better look. There was a sudden roar and a blast of wind, and the western wind engulfed him, plucked him up from his seat, and thrust him over the edge of the ravine below. Erik twisted with a cry, straining to grasp the earth beneath his fingers, but the wind mercilessly buffeted him, and he tumbled through a gaping fissure at the bottom of the ravine.

  Erik lay with his face against the cold dark. Stirring, he realized that he was lying almost vertically and strained his head upward to see the light peering through the fissure high above him. Feeling about himself, he realized that he was lying precariously lodged against some projecting rocks, which kept him from plummeting further down into the abyss below. The prince warily shifted his weight and found the rocks would hold. Slowly and painfully he began his ascent, hugging the ground with his knees, straining and digging his fingers into the earth. It was slow going, and he barely managed to pull himself a few body lengths up, when the ground steepened and the earth again crumbled in fingers. He scrambled, desperately trying to maintain his hold, but he found himself sliding and scraping, carried down by the tumbling earth into the darkness and over a ledge, and then he knew no more.

  ERIK WOKE in deep darkness and sat up with a groan. Tasting the salt of blood in his mouth, he felt his head and found it wet and sticky to the touch. He hoped the cut was a shallow wound, for there was nothing he could do about it, lost as he was in the underground depths. His arms and legs were aflame and bruised, but he found that nothing was broken and tried to count himself lucky, though his heart was sinking faster with every second he spent in the absolute darkness.

  Erik weakly attempted to rise, but a sudden dizziness overpowered him, and he sat down again for a few moments, waiting for it to pass. He peered about him, trying to pierce the thick cloak of darkness. Mounting panic and despair threatened to overwhelm him, but he savagely thrust them down. He let out a few calls into the darkness, but heard no response. He had not expected there would be. Nothing or no one would be there save the wild beasts that made their home in the murky underground.

  The prince cursed himself having foolishly trusted Barden. The Lord of the winds had had his revenge for the spurning of his daughter. Finally Erik found that he could manage to stand, so he took a few blind steps, groping ahead. Discovering a wall to his right, he pressed his body against it, the cool damp rock against his cheek soothing his throbbing head. There was no use going backwards. He had felt himself drop from an unclimbable height. He would go forward hoping that fortune would place his feet on a path that would lead him out of the dark.

  Erik crept slowly on, fearful of stumbling over crevices. He did not know how long he walked. Sometimes the wall on his right would disappear, and he would find himself at the mouth of another tunnel, having to decide on which path to choose. Other times he would reach a dead end and have to retrace his steps. The prince made so many twists and turns he knew not if he walked the same path twice. But all the paths he chose were by chance, and he only pretended to have hope. His weary limbs weighed down every step he took, so that he had to battle the desire to sit down and give in to despair.

  Erik’s heightened senses became aware of a new sound other than his own footfalls. He paused, and the sound ceased. He started again, and the sound started up again as well, an almost imperceptible soft padding dogging his steps in the darkness. The prince froze, his heart beating quickly. He was being followed!

  Slowly Erik turned around and peered into the inky blackness. Rounding the bend behind him there materialized a pair of yellow eyes, unblinking in the darkness. Terror seized him. He had held his ground before many mighty beasts and warriors, but the darkness, the helplessness of being trapped underground, and, most of all, the unknown nature of the beast, were too much for him to bear. He fled blindly into the dark tunnel ahead of him. He could hear the heavy breath of the beast chasing him, gaining on him, and he knew he could not escape. He grabbed the hilt of
his sword and turned to face the animal, but his foot caught on a rock. He fell and so he lay there waiting for the beast to spring upon him and shred him from limb to limb.

  But no beast came.

  A small voice in his head told him he should muster his strength and rise, but it was drowned by the throbbing in his head. He would never be able to rescue Rosa now, and she would forever sleep believing his love too weak to withstand the sorrow and uncertainty of their last meeting. But it was impossible to escape the deep underground, and he did not have the strength even if he knew the way. The worst of all was how achingly alone he felt, lost in the darkness, with the earth between him and the sun.

  Erik did not know how long he lay there, when he felt the coolness of touch on his face, and his head being lifted and placed on a soft lap. Gentle hands softly brushed his hair from his eyes and caressed his cheek.

  “Who is it?” he murmured.

  “Shh, rest for a little while,” a woman softly spoke, and Erik recognized the voice.

  “Rosa,” he whispered.

  “Go to sleep, and I will keep watch.”

  Erik felt that there must be many questions he should want to ask her, but he could not think of a single one. His eyelids closed in weariness, and he slept. When he awoke, Rosa was still there, and he still lay in her lap and felt her cool hands on his cheek.

  Am I dreaming?” he murmured in wonder.

  “Most probably.” He could tell by her voice that she was smiling.

  “But I can feel your touch.”

  “I am glad. I did not know if you could.”

  He lay there silently, comforted by her nearness.

  “Rosa,” he said at last, and his voice broke with despair. “I don’t know if I can rescue you! I don’t know if I can find my way out of this darkness.”

  The princess continued to stroke his hair and then said firmly. “Erik, you cannot stay here. You must get up and continue searching. If not for my sake, then for your own.”