by Megan Derr
Goulet only smirked, and rose gracefully to his feet. "Shall we, then?" He did not wait for their reply, but strode from the room, vanishing quickly down the hallway.
"How does he know the way to our stables?" Marcum asked, obviously still irritated. It truly was odd to see him thus.
Levaughn shrugged. "Do not put something in his food or drink, Marcum."
"Only because you asked," Marcum replied. "Goblins."
"I agree," Levaughn said, then settled his satchel and strode down the hall, Marcum at his side.
Goulet was waiting for them in front of the stables, alongside a dark brown stallion bearing a saddle bearing goblin symbols. He smirked as they reached him, but said nothing, only swung up into the saddle.
Levaughn stowed his satchel, then mounted his own roan mare. Marcum's horse was a royal black stallion; marked by their unrelenting black coat, save for a diamond of white on the forehead. Not exactly discrete, but in this case he thought it would help more than hinder, and Marcum must have known that or he would have instructed a different horse be chosen.
Marcum led the way from the castle grounds, calling farewells to the various guards and other persons who politely spoke to the youngest prince. Free of the castle, Goulet overtook the lead. They increased their pace, going as fast as they could without wearing the horses out too quickly.
Unfortunately, that meant they travelled too fast to talk, which left entirely too much time to think.
Of light brown hair and mist green eyes, a bright smile and hands that had always been rough and calloused, but gentle. A body in perfect shape, the smell of earth and sunshine. A laugh that could brighten his mood no matter how foul it might have been to start.
What was Calder like now, ten years beyond the boys they had been? Did he still smile and laugh in that way that had pulled Levaughn in right from the start? Did he still kiss like he'd been born for no other purpose? Beg—
He cut that train of thought off with a muttered curse. Really, he had more important matters to dwell upon, and there was no guaranteeing that Cal would be as happy to see him, as he was happy he would finally see Cal again.
Because he would be, and there was no point in denying that. He had never forgotten Cal, had wondered more than once what might have happened if he had just admitted he was hopelessly in love with Cal…but always the old fear had resurfaced, that he would look the greatest fool for feeling something which was not returned.
Then, it simply seemed too much time had passed, to say what he'd never said.
Now, though…what would he do now?
Save Cal from the witch, he reminded himself sharply. Stop mooning and be a damned wizard.
They were facing a witch who could cast a large number of difficult curses, possessed an All Seeing Mirror, and whose magic had broken a jewel on a talisman that had been protecting against illegal magic for countless generations. That spoke of old power, which made it all the more frightening.
He'd heard of no such witch in recent history, and he definitely would have heard. Anyone caught using that kind of magic would be sentenced to execution. So her skills obviously extended to cloaking, which was much easier said than done.
A call from Marcum drew him from his thoughts, and Levaughn realized they had reached the dense forest at the southeastern portion of the kingdom. The forest was too dense for them to travel quickly, and so they slowed to a steadier pace, sometimes three abreast, sometimes forming one long line.
It was while they were three abreast that Marcum spoke again, once more breaking into Levaughn's thoughts of the past. "Goblins typically keep to themselves, even when a brother is in danger. They have a strict policy of non-interference until directly attacked."
"I'm surprised Cal let you come find me," Levaughn added. "How did you break down his stubbornness?"
"No one let me do anything," Goulet replied. "I defied clan and Cal to come find you. I will be severely punished upon my return. Cal is very much a brother to me, however, far beyond simply saving my sister. He is suffering immensely right now, and it will take a magic-user to save him and the kingdom. So I went in search of Cal's magic user." He smirked and slid his yellow eyes to Marcum. "No doubt the little alchemist will prove useful, as well."
"No doubt," Marcum agreed with a placid smile.
Levaughn repressed the urge to roll his eyes and call them children. Instead, he ignored their behavior and said, "So tell us in greater detail all that has transpired."
Goulet nodded and said, "Three weeks ago, the King returned early from one of his journeys around the kingdom. He arrived with a strange woman on his arm, and she arrived with the Queen's diadem upon her head. Only minutes after her arrival, she brought several soldiers and other inhabitants of the castle under power of the Siren's Curse." His lips thinned as he pressed them together, silent for several moments before he continued. "What she did to Cal, and he believes she did the same to the King, seems far worse than that."
"What did she do?" Levaughn asked quietly.
"He does not like to speak of it," Goulet said, voice just as low and solemn. "She enthralled him, forced him to fuck her, and continues to tease and taunt and touch him. She believes it has worked. It did work with the King, and if I am not mistaken, it is as curable as the Siren's Curse."
It was Marcum who replied, "Worse. A Siren's Curse will leave the victim despairing and eventually drive him to suicide. While bad enough, what your describing sounds like the Black Widow Curse. That was a favorite of Queen Melania."
"The Bloody Beauty," Levaughn said with a grimace.
"All Seeing Mirror Number Three," Goulet said. "It was presented as a gift to the Golden King and his Queen, a woman of remarkable beauty and even more remarkable magic. She was one of the greatest sorceress's in the world. She was also vain and manipulative, and the only thing more foolish than making the mirrors was to put one in her hands."
"Yes," Levaughn agreed, as Marcum nodded.
The notorious Queen had used the mirror for selfish purposes, instead of the good for which it had been intended. Instead of seeking out people in need, she used it to hunt out anyone more beautiful than she, then used all the means at her disposal to be rid of her unwitting rival. Mirror, Mirror, she always began, or so legend had it, her demand to know who was the most beautiful in the land.
She'd begun discreetly enough, but as her jealousy and rage spiraled out of control, her unfortunate husband was at last forced to take action, and instead had been killed by one of her fits.
Eventually, the Bloody Beauty had been captured and burned alive for her crimes. Legend had it that when the flames had finally died out, all that remained of her were the iron slippers she had favored, glowing red-hot from the heat of the flames.
After her demise, all of her belongings had been destroyed as well, including the All Seeing Mirror and her spell books and tools. That first execution had lead to others, until the violence had exploded into the Blood & Magic wars. Those terrible times had ended only with the outlawing of most magic, and the strict regulation of what remained.
"So a woman has come along, with an All Seeing Mirror and knowledge of forbidden curses, two of them the Siren Curse and the Black Widow curse," Levaughn said grimly. "That’s sounds too much like the Bloody Beauty for my taste."
"If she were alive, which is impossible, she would be nearly two hundred years old," Marcum said. "It cannot be her. The idea is ridiculous. She was burned alive. Far more likely that her things were not destroyed."
Goulet nodded, looking as though he'd bitten into something sour. "If a mirror has survived, it only makes sense other things have as well."
"Yes," Marcum agreed. "It still seems unlikely, however, that anyone would have survived so long. Perhaps it was hidden away, and recently rediscovered?"
"Likely," Levaughn agreed. His stomach churned, as he thought of Cal forced to endure a Black Widow's Curse. Named for a woman who had, after her husband's death, ensnared other men to keep her
self in gold and jewels and fine clothes. The history of magic was rife with men and women who had created the darkest of spells to fulfill their desires. A woman who had eaten children to steal their youth, the Bloody Beauty who had stolen the beauty and vitality from young women. A King who had so loved to see his daughters dance, he had made them do it for him every night, until their slippers were full of holes and their feet bled. A woman cursed to sleep for a hundred years, and who had gone mad with grief when finally she woke.
To think that Cal might be facing such a fate, and still had been too stubborn and humble to ask for help! Levaughn was going to throttle him.
"When I left," Goulet said, resuming where he had left off, "five servants had gone missing—three women and two men. Cal was exhausted from hiding the fact he was not cursed, and fetching the animals she bid him bring her. I assume they are for sacrifice or similar magic. He needs rest, but barely sleeps or eats. I dread she is doing things to him of which he will not speak, even to me. I fear more that she will eventually discover he is not cursed as she believes."
Levaughn nodded. "Yes. She will not be fooled forever. I am astonished she has not realized it already, but that is part of the power of the necklace I gave him. Still…"
"Arrogance would blind her," Marcum said. "If she relies upon an All Seeing Mirror, and uses such curses, then she is beautiful and powerful. Such traits are all too often coupled with vanity and arrogance. She would simply take for granted that all succumb to her. Those who rely upon mirrors are most often blinded by them."
"Let us hope that is enough to buy us some time," Levaughn said. He frowned in thought, mind racing over all that he knew of sorcery, of magic long forbidden and punishable by death. The thing about such power was that it demanded a lot of the sorcerer, and had to be frequently replenished. That would definitely explain the animal sacrifices…it would also explain… He looked up at Goulet. "You said servants had gone missing? Can you tell me anything more about them?"
Goulet shook his head. "Not much, really. My only connection to the castle is Cal, and he comes to me, or we meet somewhere in the forest. I have never been to the castle, and do not know its inhabitants. But Cal said a few things about them, for what little it's all worth. Three women and two men, all younger. I do not think any of them was more than twenty summers, if that. The men were both footmen; two of the women were maids, the last was one of the princess' personal maids. It was the last that really concerned people. She was the second to go missing. The first was one of the footmen, and no one noticed at first because he often disappears anyway. Then the princess' maid went missing, followed by the others over the span of a couple of weeks."
"That is too many people, in too brief a period of time, to be anything but ominous," Marcum said thoughtfully. "The men I would hazard she is feasting on their energy—young men have more of it than anyone, and it of superior quality. The women…were they beautiful?"
"I could not say," Goulet replied. "You think she is feasting on their beauty?"
Levaughn nodded and said, "A woman who uses lust and love curses? Definitely. Her beauty is her greatest asset. But servant girls…usually noble women are the primary prey of such things. They can afford to make themselves inordinately beautiful. Peasants, servants….they lead lives too hard for beauty of the sort such a sorceress would want to steal."
"She must be having trouble taking the ones she wants," Marcum said. "Noble women make better food, so to speak, but they are far more likely to be noticed missing."
"But she already has the king, the Huntsman, and several others enthralled," Levaughn pointed out. "By this point, she must be powerful enough to take what she wants without really needing to hide."
Marcum nodded, "So there must be something else she needs or wants that stays her hand from taking more blatant measures. But she controls the King. That is all the power and authority she could ever need, surely. Especially if she kills him."
"Not necessarily," Goulet said abruptly. "Tell me, that Black Widow curse, could it undo a previous love?"
"It would depend on the nature of the love," Levaughn said slowly. "Some loves are more resistant than others, and it also varies wildly from person to person. It also takes the victim being strong enough to use that love to resist, and some people are simply not that strong."
Goulet smiled, showing a hint of his sharp teeth. "Say, your love for Cal."
Levaughn jerked, not having expected that—but looking at Goulet, there seemed little point in denying it. "I have never been cursed, of course, but given my magical ability and the fact ten years has not lessened my love for Cal…it would be hard for even a Black Widow to completely take me over." Not to mention that women in general held no appeal for him and so sexual desire was much harder to coerce, even magically.
"All right. Then what of a parent's love for his only and much adored child?"
"It is nearly impossible to make a parent completely forget his children," Levaughn said. "The bespelled king might ignore his daughter, neglect her, but I doubt he has forgotten her entirely or cut her from his life. Somewhere, he remembers her and still cares."
"Then, the Queen's power is not absolute," Goulet said. "She must still contend with the Princess. Should the King die, the throne would most likely still go to the Princess, with the new Queen to be made Dowager only."
"She has not enthralled the Princess?" Marcum asked, clearly surprised. "Why ever not?"
"Cal protects her, and sees she is hidden away as much as possible. Nor is the princess a fool, for all she is young. Cal said she knew the Queen to be a witch immediately upon meeting her."
"Intriguing," Levaughn said. "Tell me more of the Princess."
Goulet nodded, and said, "Princess Gwenda, only child of his Majesty, and she came at a terrible price—the Queen died in childbirth, after a long and terrible labor. People were astonished the royal couple managed to have a child at all, after so many years of failed attempts. But, she is a beautiful young woman, now, and they say she is showing every sign of someday being a good Queen.
"I remember that as she grew, rumors abounded that the Queen had someone outside her marital bed, in order to bear a child. But the King swiftly put down those rumors; they very much loved each other and he would not hear any slander against her. Still, the child looks like neither of them. The King and Queen both had brown hair, with pale brown and blue eyes respectively. They also had the sort of skin common to the region, that browns easily in the sun.
"Princess Gwenda, however, has hair the color of pitch and eyes nearly as dark, with the whitest skin you will ever see, and lips the color of blood."
Marcum drew a sharp breath. "Black as night, red as blood, white as bone."
Goulet nodded. "An apt description, though we tend to say 'white as snow'. In fact, Cal and the King often call her 'Snow White' as a term of endearment."
"If I am correct, that is old alchemy indeed," Marcum said grimly, and extracted a thin, wooden case. Flipping it open, he pulled out his spectacles and placed them on his nose. Putting the case away, he pulled out a rather battered looking book.
At one point, Levaughn knew, that book had been a handsome piece, with the highest quality paper and bound in handsome green leather. Now, however, it was so spattered and stained and splotched, very little of the green remained, and the pages were every color but their original cream.
Flipping open the battered grimoire, he licked his thumb and began to flip gingerly through the pages. Though stained and maltreated, the neat handwriting, charts, diagrams, and formulae filling them was undisturbed and pristine. He was silent for a couple of minutes, save for the softest of mutterings here and there, until he paused at last halfway down one page with a soft "Aha."
"What?" Goulet asked, looking curious, impatient, but also ever so faintly amused.
"This is it," Marcum replied, tapping the page in question. "It's not one I'd ever attempt myself, even if I do have a bad habit of bending the laws of magic. I
t's called the Living Doll Elixir."
Levaughn frowned. "That sounds remarkably straight forward, for alchemy. It is not the nature of an alchemist to be so straight forward."
"The irony is there," Marcum replied quietly, eyes still on his book. Then he began to read, "To create a child for a barren mother, combine with Essence of Night the fresh blood and ground bone of a stillborn babe. The would-be mother should drink the Elixir for three days. To the mother shall then be born a child, natural in all ways, save for its beauty—hair as black as night, skin as white as bone, lips as red as blood."
Goulet grimaced. "That is not something the Princess should ever know, I think. But, for all its grimness, it does not seem dangerous."
"On the contrary," Marcum said. "No spell, be it traditional magic or alchemy, can be cast without a sacrifice. Something is always lost, for every gain. Magic requires, obviously, a wizard, but it also requires a focus and a sacrifice. In magic, the sacrifice is most often the wizard's own energy. That is what makes magic so powerful—raw energy, channeled into another form. But it runs the risk of harming whoever gave the energy for the casting. All forbidden magic is of the nature that requires the death of at least one person. A curse uses a person against himself, while benefitting the caster.
"In alchemy, very little raw energy is used. I have less power to tap than, Levaughn, but I have more versatility. I am no wizard. But alchemy is the mastery of the natural world, and how to use it and what little power I have, to do much that a wizard can."
Levaughn smiled briefly. "It is always interesting, to see what each of us can accomplish, or how we would do the same things. Plus, there are things more common to alchemy than to magic, as well as the opposite."
"Such as playing with death," Marcum said flatly. "Alchemists have always enjoyed too much tinkering with things best left untouched. This is a prime example, though its intentions are generally honest enough. Life from death, but it must come at the cost of still another life. The greater the spell, the greater the sacrifice."
