The Queen's Curse

by Hellenthal, Natasja

  It is like a treat, this little paradise. I could stay here a while… but she caught herself and angrily shook her head thinking about the recent events. No, I will not forget about my task! I will enjoy this as long as it lasts, but then I will continue my mission… soon.

  Tirsa stayed at the waterfall, she already had examined the rocks beyond it; there was no exit or cave so she did not understand where Shanta could have gone to. She did not know Woodchildren could make themselves invisible or vanish into thin air. If I just knew some magic – and she thought about the countless times she had asked her Woodchildren friends back home to teach her some tricks, but they always kindly refused. They had knowledge of ancient secret magic and it had to remain among the old TalamhClann alone. She had respected that, and had felt like an outsider again; but stayed curious and just enjoyed watching them when they were at work doing their magic. For she was allowed to observe, and she had travelled safely because of their protective spells. She wished she could have borrowed some of their spells for this journey, but then reckoned they would have been of no use anyhow, if they could not use magic on Sempervirens, or anywhere here in Dochas, if the TalamhClann couldn’t either.

  Those visits to them stood out in her memory. She missed them greatly and felt sick when she thought about all of the Wind-and Woodchildren in Dochas who were missing; leaving their loved ones in the dark, never knowing what happened to them, or if they were even alive. If she was just able to help them somehow …

  A familiar sound brought her out of her memories; the voice of the queen.

  Quickly, instinctively alarmed, as if it had already grown into a second nature of hers, she jumped to her feet and started walking towards the pool. There she noticed Artride had wrapped herself in her blanket, obviously naked underneath. Her long hair was wet and her skin a little red from the heat and soaking too long, but clean. Walking in a relaxed manner towards her on the grass she said, ‘I really needed that. Now it’s your turn while I take watch. After you have bathed, I suggest we wash our clothes in the hot spring. No soap, but it will have to do.’

  Tirsa felt a little embarrassed about the situation and nodded, looking away, leaving the queen in a grassy meadow where she perched down in the gentle sunshine.

  When she was undressed herself, sitting in the hot spring, she soon became peaceful as well, and found out just like Artride that the warmth and soft bubbling of the water was clearing her thoughts, and she felt a desire to stay a bit longer in this paradise. Did Artride feel the same?

  She came to the conclusion that if she had, she must have felt reluctant to tell. Especially now that Tirsa knew her desire to stay. Artride probably thought Tirsa would be only more disappointed if she found out her weakness, or maybe she reckoned Tirsa wouldn’t feel the same desire to stay, because she was stronger and had more willpower. Well, I am not, for I do feel it.

  She only missed the soap, and had hesitated to try some leaves of the strange plants that grew here that could contain soap ingredients, but thought it safer not to try them out. Apart from that, the bath was perfect and still very alluring and tempting her to stay. Perhaps it is magic, but I am not falling into its trap.

  When she came back, she found Artride fast asleep on her back on the meadow, with her blanket a little blown away by the soft summer breeze; exposing her long bare legs and delicate arms. A part of her uncovered round hip and breasts looked almost white as if never touched by the sun, whilst Tirsa’s skin was used to days of being exposed to the giant hot star, and even still wore its tan from last summer, which already started to darken under the spring sun. Tirsa felt a warmth starting around her heart, flowing through the rest of her body.

  She decided to occupy her mind and wash their clothes. Good, at least I do not have to be embarrassed by doing this in the nude! Strangely, she found herself back in the woodland and mountains of her youth; where in the summertime she was usually naked or poorly dressed, and even grew used to the temperature when autumn came. Her mother begged her to cover herself up when she turned sixteen and changed from a lithe boyish girl into a slim pretty woman. Her mother feared for her safety, knowing that if a traveller ever saw her like that he would surely try to ravage her.

  Tirsa smiled when she thought about her mother in those days, and thinking about how naive and careless she indeed had been; not understanding fully yet what her mother meant. However, always respecting her and knowing it had to be wrong; for her mother had frightened her. Tirsa never had forgotten the evil men who killed her father and were it not for her kind patient good father, she would have believed all men were evil. Her mother, indeed, had proven to be wise, when one day riders came along the woods when she was swimming naked in her lake. I was very fortunate they meant no harm.

  Her smile faded. How little I knew back then about the world and human nature; good and evil and the shadows that lie in between …

  She pulled their soaked breeches out of the water and rubbed the cloth together repeatedly,and firmly at a smooth rock. She rinsed all of the clothes: the breeches and the tunics in the cool water of the pool until the stains and dirt was gone.

  When she came back, Artride was still asleep and she dropped and spread the clothes to dry on the sunny meadow. She had to lie down too, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the soft breeze on her naked body. The grass was high enough to cover them, but she refused to sleep, even if she was exhausted. It was still midday, but Tirsa decided that if the queen did not wake before evening she would not rouse her either. They could camp here and Tirsa would stay on guard until her queen awoke, so that perhaps she could catch some sleep a few hours herself.

  The hours passed by and the sun sank behind the mountains. She had drank some of the sweet, nourishing nectar and had put on her clothes that had dried fast in the warm wind. She felt better now that she and her clothes were clean. Despite the shield of protection she had constructed around her emotions, she was having considerable difficulty remaining aloof from the sheer excitement of this venture together with the queen. She fought against those confusing feelings and tried hard not to stare at her on the grass.

  Artride had moved underneath her blanket and now lay on her side with her face on her stretched arm; her long black hair all dried and wavy. It looked like she did not have a care in the world. If I could make it so, for her, I would. She certainly deserves it.

  She had not washed her own blanket, afraid it would not dry in time; fearing the chill of the night.

  When Artride finally woke it was almost night, and Tirsa was happy she could get her rest at last.

  ‘You should have woken me up, Tirsa, really!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘No, you needed it, obviously.’ She yawned and rolled herself in her woollen blanket. Within moments, she was sleeping a dreamless, deep sleep. ‘Wake me up before dawn, please. We have to get going again,’ she had managed to say before slumbering off.

  How could I have ever believed that she would kill me?

  Artride saw the washed clothes, and smiled at the glass with nectar ready for her. It was dusk and a bird was singing a sweet melody to announce the upcoming night. She did not need to make a fire for the temperature around her was comfortable, and she felt better and ready for the journey ahead, especially after the sweet juice giving her new strength.

  The queen was alone with her thoughts, but felt a little disorientated for sleeping a great deal during daytime. However, she was wide-awake and thought about the recent days and happenings, looking up at the appearing stars. She inhaled the rich night air deeply and felt fit. She knew she should not enjoy this quest really, but realised she did to some degree. Apart from the encounter with her uncle, and Tirsa dying, and the trip through the swamp and through the icy mountains, it felt kind of good in itself to travel again; but most of all she enjoyed the refreshing company of wild Tirsa Lathabris. Now that things were straightened out, she was sure they could be friends when this mission was completely over, and hoped Tirsa would not distance herse
lf from her. She might with all the knowledge she now possesses.

  Nevertheless, she realised all too clearly that she could not return without a spell and survive herself; she had killed her uncle and would face the death penalty. The life of a queen was worth nothing compared to that of a king. Her father had warned her about the strict rules for women. She would be beheaded and her head would be hung on the branches of the Royal Tree as a reminder to the women of Ceartas that murder was a major crime; even if it was in self-defence; and also to show that men were their masters, even for a queen leading Ceartas. Plenty of women wanted to leave their suffocating marriages, but faced the harsh truth that divorce was not allowed for them and murder was not an option either. They had to endure it all; his presence, the abuse, the hard work in the house and on the land, the bearing of babies, nursing and raising children. And in the meantime wither away or simply die after taking their ill husbands lives in despair. Death was sometimes the only solution. In the old days, these things happened more frequently than today. Women tried to teach their sons to be better men than their fathers, especially towards women. In these days, women married quite late, only when they were sure they had found a suitable match; sometimes that would even be a younger man. Men on the other hand did not have to worry about any of these things. For them divorce was indeed an option; however, killing their wives also for them meant the penalty of death, but that rarely happened.

  Tirsa knows I cannot go back without a spell; perhaps that is why she feared I would truly stay here to save my own skin. I do not blame her.

  Despite everything, Artride still felt some responsibility for her people and the urge to change the situation in her country, and she knew she could make a change, if she was persistent enough, and if this sorceress was willing to help them. However nothing indicated so far that she would, they had to try at any cost to convince her.

  Therefore, I had better enjoy this journey, for it will most likely be my last.

  ~ ~ ~

  After she had woken Tirsa up early in the morning to get going, Artride decided not to keep any more secrets from her. She desperately needed a friend with whom she could talk things through. Not a Jaromir or another guard with his brain in his pants.

  It has been so long since I could trust someone; someone who does not want anything done from me. She thought about Ezra, the head of the kitchen who once had been her personal maid. They had established an intense friendship and a deep trust over the years, that Artride did not think she could ever share with someone else. Things were not the same anymore between them; however, Ezra never told anything to anyone about what had happened privately between them. Still, she had distanced herself from Artride, and avoided contact lately. Artride respected that, but felt even more lonely and isolated after their break.

  She glanced at Tirsa, who was drinking the nectar with her eyes closed, and thought about telling her. Just to see how she reacts. No more secrets. However, she knew it was more than that.

  Tirsa felt her staring and glanced back, returning her smile. There was some sort of stirring in the air.

  ‘It is a shame we do not have those delicious breads and cookies anymore. I really do miss them,’ Artride said while combing her long hair before braiding it into one braid again.

  Tirsa nodded and licked her lips. ‘But this fills the stomach just as well.’ And she made sure to fill their water bags with the delicious nourishing nectar.

  ‘Yes it does, but I cannot imagine that anyone can live only on this drink. Did Shanta not miss all the pleasures and variety of food?’

  ‘Woodchildren do not care much for food, being more spirit than body,’ Tirsa commented, lowering her head and shrugging her shoulders, like she, herself, didn’t care much about food either.

  ‘You know, Tirsa, I have to confess I do not know an awful lot about Woodchildren. To be honest, I never knew about their existence. I thought the storytellers had made them up. All the things I do know now I learned on this journey from you.’

  She looked up from the gentle river they were sitting at to stare into the deep blue pool of the queen’s eyes.

  ‘Do you know them personally?’

  It was not forbidden to tell about the TalamhClann to humans, but because Tirsa knew an encounter with those delicate creatures was special and always felt she was very lucky to know them, she was very cautious in telling fellow humans about them, for the simple fact that if they remained a mystery to them and they still rather feared them, they would remain safe. She always feared that one day humans, as they had done with so many other creatures, would destroy them, if they could of course. Even if they did not have a reason or an excuse to kill, they would find one.

  Telling Artride perhaps would be all right, for she trusted her now. But even so, she felt reluctant, as if she might reveal or expose them somehow. As when you shared a secret with more than one person, it somehow lost its magic.

  ‘I did once,’ Tirsa answered solemnly, and her face turned blank.

  Artride sighed longingly. ‘I would have given anything in my childhood days to have met a real Woodchild; it would have made a big difference. But I guess they fled the Royal Woods a long time ago,’ she said cynically and made a funny face. ‘Are they common in Zoria then?’

  ‘They are for the ones who truly care to look, but only if your intentions are good. They know, you see. Like Shanta still knew somehow even if she was under a spell. Well, they know if a person has a good heart and if they want to be seen; they will decide, not you.’

  ‘Ah.’ Artride tilted her head and her eyelids drooped seductively. ‘How come you are so special?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  Artride laughed. ‘I mean, why you? Did they ever mention why they choose you?’ I can guess of course.

  Tirsa got up and her voice drifted off while she said, ‘One time I was still innocent, like them perhaps. A child has more chance of seeing them.’

  ‘So you do not anymore?’ Artride got up as well, rolling up her blanket.

  ‘I am afraid the last time I saw and spoke to one, not including Shanta of course, was about three years ago. They said I had changed. They said–’ and Tirsa drooped her head, ‘that I had become human.’ She swallowed hard.

  ‘And that was a bad thing?’

  ‘Oh, yes! Basically, they despise humans and sometimes pity them, but I obviously let them down for I had promised them not to become human–’

  ‘But Tirsa, you are.’

  ‘No!’ and more softly she added, ‘Yes, but I did not want to.’

  Artride bit her lip, thinking about something she could say to her.

  ‘They don’t recognize me anymore.’ Tirsa said glaring at her hands, trying to restrain herself. She would not allow herself to cry.

  ‘Why are they called “children”?’

  Tirsa drew in a deep gulp of morning air, scented with mulch, moss and leaves of the many bushes and plants about. She nodded to the west and led the way for the continuation of their quest; walking with Artride beside her, she answered, ‘Because they always appear rather young and innocent. However, they can get very old; they can live for up to four centuries and their skin and looks will hardly show any sign of age. And, they want to be called ‘children’ because they see themselves as children of Talamh; perhaps more than us and they act very much like children. They are still in wonderment and awe about the smallest things; they laugh a lot and like to play games and do tricks, like Shanta. But even so they are very mature and wise.’

  ‘Don’t they confuse being human with growing up then?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Perhaps grown-ups tend to forget what it is like to be a child and Woodchildren just remember us for that fact. If I … had stayed more youthful then perhaps …’ and Tirsa shook her head. ‘Never mind.’

  ‘Hmm, I often wish I could be a child again when it concerns being carefree, well you know that now. However, I am glad I am all grown-up and can make my own decisions, taking responsibility, e
ven though it can be difficult at times to do so.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And being grown up has its advantages too.’

  ‘I would not want to be a child again,’ Tirsa said, ignoring the queen’s remark and the seductive glint in her eye. ‘They don’t take you seriously, and the wait to reach adulthood tends to be so long.’

  ‘I agree on that.’

  She noticed Artride had a ring on her left hand. It was a golden delicate ornamented ring with a tiny round blue gem attached to it. It seemed to glow from within.

  ‘Your ring, it is beautiful, Artride.’

  ‘Oh, why thank you,’ she answered a little surprised. ‘It is my mother’s wedding ring actually. She only wore it two years, though.’

  ‘Before she … I am sorry. But if it is a wedding ring why do you already wear it? People might think you are married.’ And she giggled at that. Or was that a stupid, insensitive question?

  Artride looked back at her with sad eyes. ‘I want to give it to the person I love; truly love with all my heart. And by wearing it I bond with it, so when I take it off on my wedding day, it will be like I am giving that special person a part of me.’

  Tirsa blushed and nodded. ‘That makes sense.’ How romantic. Although Tirsa did not believe in marriage as such –. the way it binds people and the ring being a chain – but kept her thoughts to herself.

  ‘Do not worry, we shall find a solution for the cursed book and you do not have to marry against your will.’

  ‘Well, eventually I want to marry; I guess with the one I have chosen. Don’t you?’

  ‘I haven’t given it much thought,’ Tirsa said grimly.

  ‘There was a person I loved greatly at one point,’ Artride absent-mindedly said when Tirsa did not contribute more. ‘Ironically, I could not have that person.’ She bit her lip. Tirsa was stunned she told her this and was actually anxious to learn more about her love life, but held back. In her experience people tended to tell more when you didn’t ask too many questions. Therefore, when she did not respond Artride explained, ‘It was someone of my household you see; someone below my rank and well … not the right gender.’