by JManess
The journey through the silent castle and down the servants’ steps would cause Sondra nightmares for many nights to come. Every servant glanced her way, though none stopped her as she proceeded through the tight, dimly lit corridors. Most of the other occupants shoved rudely past her, rushing to complete some errand or another in the never-sleeping castle.
She couldn’t believe her luck when she threw open the servant’s entrance door after slipping past the bustling kitchen. She’d made it, and she supposed she could thank the upcoming grand feast for everyone’s preoccupation.
Especially when she entered the courtyard from the kitchen gardens to find it filled with people, carts, horses, and the wildly dancing shadows cast by the torches of harried guardsmen. No one noticed one more servant girl in a dark, hooded cloak slipping through the shadows and joining the traffic flowing out of the castle grounds.
She proceeded through the portcullis and out the gates to the city below.
No shout of alarm went up as the cloaked figure broke away from the path leading to town and followed a less-used path to the countryside. The path traveled through the meadows, the dreaded Woods, and beyond that, Thunder Mountain. Sondra spared one last glance back at the ghostly central tower before continuing her journey.
She reached the meadows by centernight. The great bell in the castle tolled the hours just as she left the path and crossed the moonlit meadow. She set her sights on the crouching Woods beyond. She reminded herself over and over that she felt no fear and that every myth and legend that emerged from the Woods possessed a purely logical explanation—precisely like those horrible
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fairylights, several of which now lay forever pinned to the insect box in her study chamber. If she approached the Woods without fear, she might unravel its mysteries and see that there remained nothing but natural phenomena.
Besides, the old hermit lived deep within the Woods and that batty old man managed to survive the so-called horrors of the haunted forest.
As if her memory of the hermit conjured him up, he appeared at the border of the Woods, apparently from thin air. She reminded herself that she hadn’t watched that area moments earlier and he no doubt merely stepped from the shadows. That explained it. Not magic.
“Don’t believe in magic, eh?”
“I beg your pardon?” Sondra jumped a little at the sound of his voice and quickly tilted her head, casting her features into shadow beneath the bright moon. “I mean, excuse me. I must be going.” She tried to affect a less-cultured accent, mimicking Liliana’s country drawl as she sidled around the old man.
She noticed he looked much the same as her youthful memories had drawn him. Tall, but stooped and wearing a dusty robe, he still carried an unadorned twisted branch taller then himself. His blazing white hair concealed most of his features, and only his twinkling black eyes and sharp nose remained visible beneath the copious locks. When she’d seen him as a child she had experienced profound disappointment because the mysterious wizard of the Woods turned out to be nothing more then a kindly, if absent-minded, old man. That final insult to her childish fantasies of magic convinced her that actual magic was a fraud, a joke, and a trick, just like the one her sisters played on her. She found him no more impressive now, though he still struck her as exceedingly tall—
even stooped over he topped her own height by head and shoulders. She gave him a wide berth and headed for the wood line, keeping her face averted.
“I say … I said, I say …”
The old man scratched his head with one gnarled hand. Sondra moved a bit faster.
“I say … girl … I remember … so many memories I forgot …” Sondra nearly reached the wood line when the old man turned to face her squarely. He seemed to grow huge; his black eyes pinning her like a light bug in her insect box so she couldn’t escape. Suddenly he stood before her, though he’d been a cart length’s distance away only moments before.
“I remember you, child, lost and alone. You left something behind in the 34
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Woods and even now she keeps it safe for you. You need only to ask for it back.”
“Wh—what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I really must be going.” Still, Sondra remained immobilized by the old man’s gaze—sharp, unforgiving, and intelligent.
“You don’t believe in magic, child, because you cut it away to excise the pain of betrayal. You cut away belief! She holds your belief for you, but you must ask for it back and accept it. Only then will you be whole again.”
“There is no such thing as magic!” Sondra felt the scream in her head, the denial, but only a shallow whisper escaped her nearly frozen lips.
The old man shook his head, but his eyes never moved, and Sondra’s own gaze crossed from the momentary double vision.
“You will never ask for it back like this. You must be made to see.” The old man seemed to consider her, almost as if his gaze pierced her flesh and perused her soul. “Ahh, do you know of the dragon that lives in Thunder Mountain?” He seemed to hear her internal snort of disbelief, he seemed to read the flash of thought about molten rock, heat vents, and vague ideas about black glass.
“Very well, child, you don’t believe in dragons. Let us see how you fare when you become one.”
At these words the old man smiled beautifully, revealing perfect white teeth even brighter than his hair. Dazed by the beauty of his smile, Sondra didn’t hear the chanting that emanated from all around her until he stepped back and she could move again. The chanting faded and she shook off a vague feeling of disorientation that chased tingles up her spine.
The man stood, stooped and feeble again, his black eyes glazed with confusion. He stared off into the distance, seemingly unaware of her presence.
Sondra waited for a few moments, mentally querying her body and cataloging her memories of what just transpired. She realized that she felt no different.
She certainly wasn’t bearing wings and scales. She wondered if she hadn’t dreamed up the entire episode in a moment of weakness brought about by her nerve-racking flight from the castle.
“Well, I feel no differently. I suppose that is all the proof I needed that magic doesn’t exist. You are a charlatan, old man, and you should be ashamed of yourself for playing tricks on people.”
“Eh … who’s that? Ethelda, where’d you get off to now?” The old man held a gnarled hand to his ear as though listening to some far-off sound. His gaze
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passed blindly over her as he searched the meadow, before he turned away and headed back toward the Woods. The hermit stumbled on his trailing beard.
“Datgurnnit, Hasselfloss, I told you to stop tripping me up. Why, I’ll chop you off and throw you in the fire once and for all if you do it again.” He shook his fist at the offending hair and continued on, stumbling again, mumbling, and shaking his fist. His shambling gait carried him into the Woods and he disappeared into the gloom within moments.
“Humph! It must have been a dream. That poor, elderly man is obviously too befuddled to intentionally perpetrate such a fraud on people. Perhaps those who encounter him allow their own expectations to overtake them when they meet him and trick themselves by conjuring up a fantasy like I just did. That is the only logical explanation. The mind can certainly play tricks on people. It is not as though anything really happened back there. That poor man, he must be lonely. I should talk to Mother about sending some food and supplies to him.
After all, we should take care of our elderly and infirm and she does love taking charge of such charity projects …”
Sondra continued her monologue explaining away the night’s experience.
As she lay curled up beneath the covers and nearly asleep just before sunbirth, she realized that she had returned to the castle and her own bed rather than continue her planned journey. She drifted asleep immediately after tha
t revelation.
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CHAPTER 5
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Liliana opened Sondra’s door the next morning at the sound of a tentative knock and bobbed a curtsy to Sarai, who waited uncertainly on the other side. Sondra didn’t spare her sister a glance as she brushed out her waist-length hair in front of the polished silver. She pointedly ignored the other woman and addressed her maid. “Liliana, I wish to wear the blue court gown today with the silver headdress and embroidered slippers. Please lay it out for me.” Liliana bobbed another curtsy and disappeared into the dressing room. Sondra continued brushing her hair and watching her refl ection. Sarai noticed dark circles beneath her eyes and her skin appeared pale and colorless in the harsh morning sunlight.
“How long are you going to ignore me, Sondra?” Sondra continued brushing.
Sarai heaved a sigh and gracefully seated herself on the bench in front of Sondra’s draped bed. “I don’t know how to apologize to you, Sondra, for what I said last night. I spoke unforgivably hurtful words. I didn’t mean it, not the part about defending you from malicious talk. I don’t know how to make you believe me about that except to ask that you remember how close we are. You can’t possibly think I ever faked my affection for you!” Sarai watched her sister; Sondra’s reflected expression revealed nothing save her sickly pallor. Sarai felt the wave of guilt increase at the thought that she caused such pain in her sister. Finally, Sondra arrived at some private decision. She tossed her horsehair brush aside and faced her sister. Despite the exhaustion on her face, her eyes blazed with anger and pain.
“And what about the other part, Sarai? Did you lie about that as well, just 36
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some words said in anger, or are people really talking about me?” Sondra could tell when Sarai silently bowed her head and averted her eyes that that part at least was the truth. People had been talking about her.
“Some people have expressed concerns. Some people don’t like your ideas and some even fear them.”
“Why? What could they possibly fear from me! I’m trying to educate people, to elevate them from superstitious peasants to modern thinkers.”
“What makes you think they want to be educated? What makes you so arrogant that you would set out to mold another person’s beliefs to fit your own view of the world? You and your Sir Pilphragm! Did it ever occur to you, Sondra, that people might like believing in magic? They might like their superstitions and feel comfort in the world they see.”
“How can they feel comforted living in constant fear of retribution from capricious fairies because they didn’t set out the proper offering? How can they want to believe in the need to race home before the rise of a full moon because the lycanthropes might be on the prowl? How can someone find comfort in jumping at shadows and dreams? It limits people, Sarai! I want them to expand their horizons, not remain paralyzed by fear.”
“Sondra, the only thing these people really fear is you.”
“Because I threaten to show them the truth?”
“No, because you threaten to do something stupid!” Sarai shouted, growing angry yet again, though she meant to apologize this morning.
“What do you mean?” Sondra asked in confusion, and Sarai sighed, continuing in a calmer voice, desperate to make her sister understand.
“You may not believe in magic, Sondra, but other people do. I do …” Sarai stood and paced slowly, the fall of her slippers soundless on the thick rug. “I like believing, I’m happy that there is magic. What sort of world would this be if every mystery had a logical explanation? It’s not fear that keeps people believing, it’s hope. Hope that through magic, we will witness some miracle, some marvelous event that leaves us with a memory we can carry with us throughout our everyday life. A memory we can pull out and peruse when that life grows burdensome.”
Sarai turned on Sondra, determined to force understanding on her stubborn sister. “They don’t fear that you will strip away their belief, Sondra.
You couldn’t do that if you tried. They fear that you will anger some … thing, with your constant denial of magic and all magical beings.” 38
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“Anger who, the ‘fairies’ in the Wood?” Sondra crossed her arms, stubbornly planting her feet, bracing for an argument.
“Ahh! You are so frustrating. Will you never let that go? No, not the ‘fairies,’
Sondra, but maybe the old wizard.”
Sondra remained unimpressed.
“Yes, I shudder in fear of offending a poor old man who wouldn’t remember me the next day. We can’t have that,” she replied sarcastically, her memory of the previous night so vague, she grew ever more convinced she’d dreamed the entire episode.
“Fine, Sondra. What of the dragon?” She held up her hand for silence, continuing heatedly, “Stop! I know you don’t believe he exists but everyone else does, including Father. It is by royal edict that none may pass the forbidden boundary set by Ulrick himself over one thousand rotas ago. I know you, Sondra. Eventually you would get the idea into your head to travel to Thunder Mountain and march heedlessly through the stone ruins, determined to prove your molten rock theory. And despite your disagreement, your violation of Ulrick’s Law would succeed in destroying the wards he placed around the mountain and free the imprisoned dragon to annihilate us all. Don’t bother to deny it, since I already know you don’t believe the legends. But everyone else knows that our ancestor bewitched the dragon and trapped him, and if the wards are broken by any human, the Dragon would escape, whether you believe it or not!”
Sondra didn’t bother to deny it. She knew for a fact that that is precisely what she would do and had intended the very night before, just before she fell asleep … if she had indeed fallen asleep. She remained confused about what had happened exactly but clearly recalled her original plans last night. Instead she remained silent, thoughtful.
“This is the reason some people fear you. They fear where your actions will land the kingdom. You believe you know better than anyone else, so you listen to no one. That attitude could hurt us all one day, Sondra.” Sarai fell silent, collapsing gracelessly onto the bench, emotionally shredded, and hoping to the gods that she had reached Sondra and finally made her understand.
“I have to think about this, Sarai. I never looked at things this way before.
I am sorry that I made anyone afraid. I am very sorry that I embarrassed you and our family.”
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Sarai jumped up and hugged her little sister, who immediately dissolved into tears, her broken sobs shaking them both.
“Oh, Sondra, you’re not an embarrassment. I love you and so do Mother and Father, though they are not free to show it as I am. We are proud of you, of how intelligent you are. Don’t cry, dear sister. I’m so sorry I hurt you.” Sarai rocked her sister slowly until Sondra’s sobs eased and finally stopped altogether.
She stepped away and smiled, her own eyes teary. “Look at us, we’re a mess. You had better call Liliana back in here; she has a lot of work to do to make you presentable for this evening’s feast.”
“I daresay that I look worse than any gruesome monster from the Woods right now.” Both women broke into unsteady laughter.
Sarai squeezed her sister in one last hug. “Am I forgiven?”
“Depends, Sarai, on whether I am forgiven?”
“Of course, Sondra, I’ll forgive you but not for that atrocious pallor. Have you been playing in Mother’s powders and unguents again?”
“Ooh, I am so telling … you know Mother would never use such things.” Both girls giggled. Mother’s vanity and the extreme measures she took to maintain her beauty never failed to amuse them.
“Seriously though, Sondra, are you feeling okay?” Sondra laughed away Sarai’s concerns. “I had a sleepless night but already I’m feeling better.”
“T
hat’s a relief. Now get that poor maid to work her miracles; she’s going to need every last bit of her considerable skill to fix you up.” Sarai grinned and turned to leave.
“Sarai.”
Sarai paused and looked back at Sondra.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, you impossible girl!”
Sondra smiled with a hint of her old joy and Sarai felt her heart lift as it always did when her sister smiled.
“Go on, get.” Sondra shooed her away and Sarai left the room laughing, feeling the pain compressing her heart ease as she nearly skipped down the hall. Her mind turned to the upcoming celebration feast, the reason for it, and the potential income that meant a dowry for her and, maybe, someday soon, a husband.
Sondra waited until the door closed and then checked on the dressing 40
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room door as well before digging out the little-used chamber pot to heave up what little breakfast she had managed to choke past her swollen throat this morning. She felt worse than she ever had before, every joint ached. Her throat stung and her stomach roiled. The faintest brush of her morning robe irritated her skin worse than the coarsest flaxweed. She hid the chamber pot beneath the bed before calling Liliana back into the room. Liliana, a longtime servant nearly as close to her as her sister, would question her illness. The chambermaid who cleaned daily would not bother to inspect the contents before dumping them nor ask why she used the pot rather than the retiring closet in her dressing chamber. Sondra didn’t want to miss the feast nor be ordered to rest during her illness.
She also didn’t desire time alone with her thoughts, especially not after the conversation she just shared with her sister. She couldn’t say she’d experienced an epiphany, but her sister’s words did provide some small insight. She had never considered someone else’s point of view before. She’d always felt certain she knew all the answers and that all she must do was prove them—and the people would rejoice gratefully for her enlightenment. Instead, she realized that they might actually stone her in the street, and even her father couldn’t stop them because, as her sister said, in everyone’s mind, she posed a very real threat to the kingdom. The thought of the untenable position she placed her family in and the potentially dangerous position she nearly placed herself in chilled her.
