With a smile still upon her lips, Lady Rhoswen’s cheeks lifted, and her eyes narrowed as if at some private joke. “Ah, but I have the benefit of knowing her.”
There were depths to this woman he could not yet fathom, but clearly she intended to dissuade him from his quest. Edmond did not like to be manipulated, so he murmured quietly, “Perhaps all that is needed is for our souls to touch.”
“You are not such a fool as to believe that. You will discover nothing but a crumbling castle and a poor soul trapped forever in an evil curse. But here, power and riches could be yours for the taking.”
“How so?”
“My kingdom needs an heir. I offer you what I have offered only one man before, and that long ago.”
“What offer is that?”
“Myself. Marry me and rule this kingdom at my side.”
Edmond caught his breath at this new danger. She had the advantage here, with armies at her command. Though he was a prince, he was a younger son, disposable to his father. An insult could prove deadly.
But to accept was unthinkable.
“Who was the other man?” Edmond said, prompting her to speak and buy him time.
“My first husband. I married him long ago, and he has since passed from this life. I did not know then that the elixir would make me barren, but so it has. I will not be drinking it much longer, and my body will once again resume its natural functions. I want strong sons and daughters, and you could give them to me.”
“I am honored at the compliment, my lady, but I pray you will allow me time to consider your generous offer.”
Lady Rhoswen’s lips tightened. “Very well. You may remain as my guest until you decide.”
Edmond bowed but said nothing.
Her whole expression hardened and she waved him away. “Leave me, but return in the morning with your answer.”
Edmond bowed again, and his footsteps echoed behind him as he left, as did her words. She would be outraged when she found him gone in the morning, but urgency consumed him. Instinct told him her offer was a ploy to keep him from his quest, and why would she make such a bold move unless she feared he might be successful?
Chapter 4
THOUGH HE AND MARTIN arose and sought out their horses before dawn, hoping to go unnoticed, they were not alone. Six other horses were being saddled.
Edmond met Martin’s eyes and motioned him toward one of the stable boys. Understanding his silent command, Martin asked the boy, “What is all the stir about?”
“A prince is come with his knights. They ride to Briar Fen Castle.”
“Is that so? I did not see them yesterday.”
“No, for they came late in the night and ride out now on the Lady Regent’s business.”
“You’re a smart one, aren’t you? What is the name of this prince?”
“Nicol of Windemore.”
Martin produced a small coin and handed it to the boy, who deftly pocketed it before any of his fellows could see.
Edmond heard all this as he saddled his horse nearby. “What is the Prince of Windemore doing here at the beck and call of Lady Rhoswen? Nothing good, I expect,” he murmured to Martin.
“True, sir, but this may work to our advantage. I had misgivings about how we would be able to leave, for the guards may have orders to not let us go, but now we may ride out on their heels.”
Edmond felt his muscles tense, knowing their backs would be exposed to arrows from the battlements. But unless they escaped on foot, this was their only option. “We must not draw attention to ourselves. Keep to the shadows.”
The eastern sky turned pale, but no sunlight breached the castle’s high walls. Only a few torches dotted the dark courtyard. Edmond and Martin led their horses to a shadowed area of the wall near the gate. When, with a creak of wood and rattle of chains, the portcullis was slowly raised, they mounted and stood ready.
Six mounted men clinking with mail and armor passed through the gate in single file, their horses moving at a trot. As the last one passed onto the drawbridge, Edmond and Martin dug their heels into their horses’ sides. Their mounts leapt forward into a mad gallop through the gate and around the horses in front of them, quickly passing them by. The guards, taken by surprise, could do no more than shout “Halt!” after them.
Glancing back over his shoulder, Edmond saw a mad scramble among the dark figures silhouetted on the battlements and knew that their departure was indeed more of an escape. Behind them, Prince Nicol and his men increased their pace, endeavoring to overtake them, but Martin signaled for Edmond to follow him off the deeply rutted road and into the trees.
It was nearly impossible to ride horses through the dense foliage and scrub, but Martin found a clear path with the surety of a woodsman. For a short while they heard sounds of the other men struggling to follow, but by sunrise they had left all signs of pursuit far behind. Martin did not return to the road but pressed on into the forest.
The leaves of oak and beech laced the canopy above, obscuring the weak morning light. Brambles and thickets pressed upon them from all sides, showering them with dew as they passed, but the animals of the forest had made a sure path among them. Martin followed the winding path up and down the slope of the land and around rocky outcroppings. Before long, Edmond had lost all sense of direction.
“You do know where you are going?” he asked Martin, realizing that he was following his man blindly.
“Yes. I travelled this way many times in my youth. The main road is quicker, but it turns north half a day’s ride from the castle. Besides, I doubt that any pass that way in safety unless the Lady permits them to, and I do not think she will be content to let us go.”
“Nor do I.”
Eventually the trees began to change to elm, and still the land sloped downward until the elms were joined by great drooping willows. The two men forded a small stream, pausing halfway across to let their horses to drink.
“We are nearly to the fens,” Martin said, patting his horse’s sweaty shoulder. “You must be very careful, my lord, for the marsh is deceitful. What looks like sturdy ground may actually be water grasses growing over deep mires. There are water snakes to watch for and quicksand. I will seek out the ancient path through the fen, but much of it has sunk beneath the stagnant waters, and the way is hard to find. There is a place ahead where we can pass the night in safety and leave the horses. It would be foolish to risk them in the fen when we can travel faster by foot anyway.”
Edmond nodded. “Lead on.”
Martin pulled his horse’s head up from the stream and moved on, soon turning onto a broader path. They journeyed through the rest of the day, slapping at biting insects, moving slowly to watch for dangers. Often they had to cross through deep waters, swimming alongside their horses, and Edmond was thankful for Martin’s insistence that he learn to swim as a boy. There were no deep rivers or lakes in his mountainous kingdom, only one pool at the base of a waterfall in a narrow valley. Most of his training had taken place in that valley; there he had honed his skills with weapons and developed skill and confidence in the water.
As they waded through one pool of stagnant water, Martin suddenly sank to his waist and shouted, “Quicksand! Stay back.”
Edmond led his horse from the water onto solid ground, tied a rope around the pommel of his saddle, and threw the other end to Martin. By this time, the man had sunk until only his head was above water, but he’d managed to keep his arms free of the sand. He caught the rope and twisted it several times around his wrist, tying a knot, and was thus able to maintain his grip on the rope as Edmond turned the horse and, with great effort, pulled Martin free of the sand’s deadly suction.
Lying on the bank, nearly swallowed up in ferns and covered with grey mud, Martin struggled to catch his breath as Edmond crouched over him. At last he sat up and gripped Edmond’s arm. “I owe you my life.”
“And after being in this forsaken place a day, I owe you mine a dozen times over. You prepared me well, but it is a wonde
r anyone survives here.”
“There are many who do. You will be their guest tonight. We shouldn’t tarry. You do not want to spend a night here without shelter.”
A snake slithered out of the ferns, and Edmond’s sword flashed out. With the flat of his blade, he flung it into the water. “No, I most certainly do not.”
As twilight fell upon them, their path ran alongside a rocky ledge. Edmond was amazed to see an orange glow emanating from a large cavity in the rock. The cave was the height of two men, and they might easily have ridden into it . . . but were halted by a threatening voice overhead.
“Stand!”
With muscles tense and heart pounding, Edmond reined in his horse and looked up to where a man stood on an overhang with an arrow nocked, ready to draw his bow. There was a rustle in the branches of a tree to their left, and Edmond searched until he saw another man standing ready to loose an arrow. With amazement, he heard Martin laugh.
“Warren, you dog. Do you not know your own brother?”
The man on the overhang lowered his bow and leaned forward to get a closer look. “Never say it’s you, Martin.”
“By your life, I swear it is,” Martin said. Then he laughed again. “I’m disappointed. We rode into the middle of your camp with nary a man to stop us.”
The man drew his bow. “I could stop you now.”
“Or you could come join us by your fire,” Martin said, his voice unperturbed.
With a grin, his brother said, “Go on inside.”
Edmond began to relax as he dismounted and led his horse behind Martin’s into the mouth of the cave. The horses’ shoes rang against the rock and echoed through the chamber. A large fire burned in a pit on the floor, but the cave’s ceiling was too high for its light to reach.
Running footsteps approached from behind. Warren passed them, carrying a torch, and said, “I’ll help you find an empty stall for your horses.”
The stalls were formed by gates made of cut saplings that closed off the open ends of natural alcoves in the rock. It was impossible to see much, but the place smelled of animals and hay. The shuffling sounds of hooves and various bleats and grunts revealed the kinds of animals kept here.
“We keep them in here at night because that is when the dragon does most of its hunting. It’s not always safe in the daytime, but the creatures don’t do well kept inside all the time.”
“Dragons must have a fierce appetite,” Martin said, leading first his horse and then Edmond’s into a large alcove with a tall ceiling.
“It’s been a sore trial having the dragon around. He’s eaten most of the game, and if it weren’t for the fishing and the odd caravan that comes up the north road, we’d have all had to move on or starve. As it is, there are no more than a dozen of us left. Of course, the supply wagon for the castle comes by every fortnight, but we take that only when we have to. After all, we’re loyal subjects of the princess, bless her.”
“Glad to hear it,” Martin said in a dry tone.
“Oh, always. I’ll see about getting you some food. Come to the fire when your horses are settled.” Warren handed Edmond the torch and started off.
“Don’t you need a torch?” Edmond asked him.
“I’ve been walking these caves my whole life. I don’t need light to find my way.”
Martin chuckled as he unsaddled Edmond’s horse. “He hasn’t changed, the old rogue.”
With ill-hidden humor, Edmond asked, “Why didn’t I know you were related to thieves?”
“Well, sir, it isn’t something a man should boast of, now is it? But I figured you’d overlook it for the sake of a safe night and helpful information. Warren is sure to have plenty of that.”
This proved to be true. As the three men sat around a fire, eating small fish fried in a pan over the flames, Warren talked of all the strange sights he’d seen in the forest during the dozen or so years since he’d last seen his brother. As he told stories, a few children played a game with assorted rocks nearby, and several women sat weaving baskets of reeds, listening to the talk. The other men of the camp were on guard duty.
“And what goes on in the rest of the kingdom?” Martin asked.
Warren scratched his beard and said, “Well, ’tis said that Galloran died.”
Sitting up straighter, his attention now sharp, Martin said, “So we heard. And we had audience with the new Lady Regent.”
“Lady Rhoswen, yes.” Warren nodded. “It is good, we hope, that she is now regent. All this time she has protected Arabella from her father and his stratagems and rebellions. So long as he retained his youth through magic, she has done so as well, and has protected the princess from his attacks. Her soldiers patrol the roads and the fens, and her dragon defeats anyone that slips through. Galloran wasn’t able to get close to the princess even though she lies in his own castle.”
“Nor can anyone else,” Edmond said, staring into the blackness overhead while his brain churned.
“I suppose not,” Warren said, his voice thoughtful.
Edmond clenched his hand on his sword. “She offered me marriage, claiming she could make me a king, but I could not understand why she had waited so long to act against the princess. Now I know. She could not act so long as her father lived.”
Looking around to see if the others followed his line of thinking, he saw that the men and women around him all wore tense expressions.
When Martin spoke, the dread of a loyal subject rang in his voice, “Surely she could not be capable of such wickedness.”
“I fear that if we do not reach Briar Fen Castle soon, we will learn the worst. Martin, we leave at daybreak.”
By noon the next day Edmond began to wonder if he would ever be dry again, or if his feet would rot in his boots. For most of the morning they had traveled across solid ground, but streams and bogs rose up constantly before them. They had left their horses behind with Warren, knowing the poor beasts would be useless in the terrain ahead.
“How much further, do you think?” Edmond asked, anxious to find the castle.
“Not far now. With luck, we should be there in another hour. See that ridge ahead of us? You can just make it out beyond those willows.”
“Yes. I see it.”
“Briar Fen castle lies on the other side. Indeed, it is built against it, the rock forming its fourth wall.”
As soon as he finished speaking, they both froze as a sharp shriek rang through the air, sending a chill of fear down Edmond’s spine. “The dragon. Curse my father for sending it here!”
“I could not tell its direction, could you?”
“No. Keep a sharp eye out.”
They walked on, wary now, their eyes constantly scanning the sky. Edmond groaned when their path disappeared beneath mud and puddles of stagnant water, especially since slogging through it would slow them down and leave them exposed.
The trees, almost all willows, grew sparsely here, and the heavy smell of decay rose up from the marsh. They waded around the shallows of a lake with a small island in its center, upon which stood an abandoned stone tower. Only the bones of civilization remained to indicate that anyone had ever lived here, but vivid life flourished among the decay. Delicate white lilies with bright pink centers floated on the water, and strange birds on long legs waded through the pools. Bird calls filled the air, frogs croaked, and minnows teemed in the shallows. Life and death held hands in this strange green world.
“Here’s the path again, Your Highness.”
Martin waited until Edmond stood beside him. A cobbled road stretched ahead for ten yards before sinking again beneath still water.
Edmond heaved a sigh. “I will never curse the dry season at home again.”
As they proceeded, jumping from tussock to tussock through the maze of water and mounds of earth, or wading through when these grassy stepping stones were too far apart, Edmond realized that he no longer even felt the water seeping into his boots. The clay was deep here, however, making it difficult to advance, as they had
to pull their boots out of the muck at each step with a sucking, squelching sound. “It’s a good thing we aren’t trying for stealth,” Edmond said after a particularly difficult step in which he nearly lost his boot entirely.
“The music of the fens,” Martin said cheerfully.
As they emerged from another grove of willows, the ridge rose before them. But a river flowed between, with their path to the castle resuming on its far shore. “This is the Sage River,” Martin said. “It runs deep and has strong currents.”
“How do we cross?” Edmond asked.
“Come on, lad. You can swim.”
“Yes, but that river looks treacherous.”
A new and rapid ripple drew their attention, caused by a small black head rising up from the water. “Snake,” said Martin.
“Better and better,” Edmond said. As he glanced around, something caught his eye a short way down the river where it took a bend to the right. “Is that a rope?”
“Aye. No doubt Warren put it there,” Martin said, and led the way along the muddy bank toward the bend. They saw that a giant tree had fallen across the river here, and above it a length of thick rope stretched between two trees on opposite sides of the river at the height of a man’s reach. The narrow end of the tree rested on the opposite bank, which was lower than the one they stood on. Even with the rope, crossing would be difficult.
Without hesitation Edmond climbed the twisted roots that rose above his head, reached to grasp the rope, and took a step forward. After a few careful steps he got comfortable with the angle of his feet on the slanting tree and kept himself balanced by grasping the rope above his head. “It seems secure,” he called to Martin, “though it is a good thing neither of us is short.”
Martin scrambled up behind him, and they moved carefully across the river, their confidence rising until the trunk sloped down at an angle that seemed much steeper than it had looked from the bank.
“We may take a dunking after all if we don’t manage this well,” Edmond said, pausing to collect himself.
Five Magic Spindles: A Collection of Sleeping Beauty Stories Page 26
