The Dawn of Courage

by Anne Zedwick

  She hadn’t realized that the flames had licked her arm. Looking down at the raw skin on her arm, Evelyn shrugged her shoulders. “I’m fine. It’s not bad.” She gently pulled her nightgown sleeves over it.

  “We have to get away from here,” Stephan said quietly. “The fire might catch the trees.”

  “We can’t just leave it burning!” Dyret looked up at the castle, flames bursting from one of the windows.

  “But we can’t stop it either,” Stephan countered. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Reluctantly, they fled the castle grounds.

  When they reached a clearing with a little pool of water sparkling in the moonlight, Stephan held up a hand. “We should stop here. We’re far enough away.”

  As Evelyn turned to look back, she realized how far they’d gone; the castle was out of sight.

  Dyret led her over to the pool of water and cupped his hands in it, sprinkling water over her burn gently. He ripped off a piece of his shirt sleeve and dampened it, tying it loosely around her burn.

  “I told you, I’m fine.” Wincing, she tried to ignore the pain that shot up her arm when the fabric touched her burned skin.

  “I’m just taking precautions, Ev.”

  “Well…thanks.” She smiled at him, the moonlight catching her glimmering brown eyes. She leaned against a tree and sighed.

  Stephan sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. She stiffened. “So, you know where to find your grandmother?” He asked, his breath tickling her ear.

  Evelyn scooted away from the awkward embrace. “I have an idea...”

  Dyret crouched on the ground in front of them and shot Stephan a look that Evelyn couldn’t interpret. “The swamp where I found you and…David?” he turned back to Evelyn.

  She nodded. “She won’t be found unless she wants to be, though.”

  “Hmm…” Stephan mused. “Well maybe she’ll want to see her beautiful granddaughter.”

  “I doubt it.” Evelyn shook her head.

  Stephan shrugged. “Well, if I were her, I would.” He scooted closer to Evelyn, touching her shoulder lightly again.

  Dyret went very still and his eyes shot darts at Stephan. Evelyn stood quickly. “Well, either way, we don’t have a plan, so we can’t just march over there and expect victory.”

  “I have a plan.” Stephan announced, standing. He was too close to Evelyn for comfort. “But for it to work, you guys can’t know very much of it…”

  Dyret narrowed his eyes. “And why not?”

  “Because…if you knew, then it wouldn’t work. You both have to act ignorant of the plan. You’re going to have to look like you don’t know where I’m guiding you.”

  “I see,” Dyret said slowly.

  “Says the blind man,” Stephan laughed.

  Dyret smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “Well, come on then,” He looked at Evelyn, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry. The wedding will have to wait…I know she set the fire. Who else would have?”

  Evelyn smiled. “It’s okay, Dyret.”

  Stephan backed away a few steps from Evelyn. “Wedding? You two are getting married? And you never told me?” He looked at Dyret, his eyes hurt.

  “Sorry…guess it didn’t cross my mind.”

  Stephan shook his head and smiled. “You know, out of all of us, I thought you would have been the last to find love. Huh.”

  ***

  In the swamp, Evelyn and Dyret followed Stephan quietly. Evelyn stayed close by Dyret’s side. His fingers enlaced themselves in hers, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “It’ll be alright,” he whispered.

  Evelyn tried to stop shaking. She didn’t answer him. Going into this, without any idea what the plan was, made her feel exposed and helpless. She gripped the hilt of her dagger tightly with her free hand.

  “Trust me.” Dyret whispered again.

  “I do.” She took a breath. “It’s him,” she jerked her head at Stephan, “that I don’t trust.”

  “Hey, I’ve known him for years. He’s a good friend. He wouldn’t hurt you.”

  “People do strange things for strange reasons, Dyret.” Throughout her life, Evelyn had learned not to trust anybody until she knew, absolutely knew, that they were trustworthy. And she hadn’t known Stephan long enough to be at ease with him leading them around in a swamp where an evil witch could jump out and kill them at any time.

  She just didn’t feel safe. Something felt…wrong.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Unexpectedly, flames exploded everywhere. It burned in Evelyn’s vision, smoke stinging her nostrils. It was so sudden. Evelyn grabbed at her dagger, but it was gone. She saw it a few feet in front of her and sprinted for it, but a wall of fire erupted in front of her. She felt the heat on her face and pulled back, stumbling into Dyret.

  “What’s going on?” she yelled to him.

  Dyret held her tightly to his chest protectively. “The witch.”

  Ahead of them, they heard laughter. Stephan stepped through the flames and grinned at them. His face aged rapidly, turning wrinkled and frail. His features shifted and in a moment the couple was staring at Evelyn’s grandmother—the witch.

  “Stephan?” Dyret said, wonderingly.

  The witch cackled. “You really thought that Stephan had escaped me? You’re both fools.”

  Evelyn instinctively nestled closer to Dyret. His arms tightened around her. “You killed my friends,” He yelled.

  Smoke curled around them and the air was hot with sparks.

  “And now I’m going to kill you,” She laughed gleefully. “Finally I will get my revenge.”

  “Look…what happened…it was an accident!” Evelyn stepped in front of Dyret. “Why can’t you just let it go? It’s been years! Can’t you see what you’ve become?”

  The witch merely smiled, revealing yellow, rotting teeth. She waved her hand in a fast, sweeping motion to her left and Evelyn found herself flying through the air toward the fire.

  Flames licked at her sides as she landed, rolling to avoid breaking any bones. Blistering heat engulfed her and she coughed, gagging on the putrid smoke. She heard Dyret yell her name, but it was a distant murmur in her swimming head. Everything hurt. She stared up at the sky, the flames drawing closer to her, ready to consume her and take her far away to a world of darkness and death. She was ready. Evelyn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She tried to ignore the heat as the fire drew closer. Darkness stole her mind.

  ***

  Dyret’s vision blurred with smoke. “Evelyn!”

  He knew she couldn’t hear him. The roar of the flames crackling around him overpowered his voice. The witch laughed.

  “Why are you doing this?” He demanded. “How can it possibly bring you pleasure to see others suffer? You’re sadistic!”

  “Hmm…” she said softly, amused.

  Dyret ran through the flames in the direction Evelyn had fallen. He found her in a spot where the fire had not reached yet and lifted her unconscious body from the ground. She was limp in his arms and he wondered if she was dead, but then she wrapped her arm around his neck for support. Dyret heaved a sigh of relief. She was alive. Twice, he thought he would lose her. It was twice too much.

  The flames suddenly disappeared. The witch stood in front of them, grinning like a lunatic. Evelyn groaned and became more aware of her surroundings.

  “Let me down, Dyret,” She whispered.

  Dyret lowered her gently to the ground, but kept his hand around her shoulders.

  “How sweet,” The witch crooned. “It’s a pity you won’t be able to have that wedding. Ever.”

  She lifted her hand. The sky flashed with lightning and she was suddenly holding a sword. It looked much too heavy for a woman of her age to be able to wield it with any accuracy, but she held it up strongly and seemed to have no trouble. Dyret remembered his own sword and drew it out of the scabbard. The sound of sliding metal rang through the smoldering swamp.

  “Back up,” Dyret whispered to Evelyn, nu
dging her behind him.

  “I can help!”

  “Considering you are weaponless and injured, I don’t think you can.”

  “Dyret.”

  “Get behind me, Evelyn! Now.” His voice was urgent, and he raised his sword in the air, pointing it at the witch.

  Evelyn obeyed quietly.

  “Why don’t you just kill us with magic?” Dyret asked. “It’d be much faster.”

  “Because! Why would I kill you quickly… when I can beat you in a sword duel and make you feel week compared to my superior swordsmanship?”

  “You really are vicious,” he muttered as he lunged at her.

  “And I won’t deny it,” she croaked, blocking his blow.

  The sounds of metal clashing filled the swamp. Evelyn ran to get her dagger. She knew it wouldn’t be much help, but maybe…she didn’t know what she expected to do. But she couldn’t sit there and just watch the witch kill Dyret.

  Dyret’s brow furrowed and little beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he blocked blow after blow. He felt a sharp sting on his arm and warm blood dripped down onto his hand. He gritted his teeth and blocked another attack, countering it with his own blow at the witch’s neck. She easily blocked him. Where had she learned to fight like that? He scolded himself quietly as he felt the bite of her sword on his leg. He’d let himself be distracted by his own thoughts. He would not be beaten by an old woman. He could not let himself lose… or Evelyn would die. He had to win.

  His hands were slick with his own blood as he pushed against the witch’s guard harder. Feigning to the left, he then brought his sword toward her right leg. The witch blocked him, but not in time to avoid a shallow cut along her calf. She didn’t even flinch. Does this woman feel any pain at all?

  How was he supposed to kill her? His breaths came in shallow gasps and his grip on his sword faltered. He wasn’t going to win, he realized. She was too strong. A frail old woman was too strong for him.

  He felt the point of her blade slip past his guard and somehow his sword flew out of his grasp. It lay a few feet away from him, and he stared at it. The point of the witch’s sword leveled out on his chest, poking him. So this was how he would die.

  “I expected you to put up more of a fight than that,” she said softly, her voice cruel and unforgiving. “You really are weak in your human form.”

  She gave him a look of disgust before bringing her sword back to strike. Dyret closed his eyes, calming his mind in preparation for his death. He just hoped Evelyn would be okay. Evelyn. Sweet Evelyn…

  “No!” Evelyn’s voice broke through his thoughts and he opened his eyes in time to see Evelyn thrust her dagger into the witch’s back. He blinked.

  The witch turned around, smiling at Evelyn. Dyret could see the dagger sticking out from her back, dark red blood pumping out of the wound. The witch didn’t even so much as acknowledge the fact. She laughed at Evelyn, “You think… you think you can kill me that easily? You foolish child. You idiotic little girl. You—”

  She didn’t finish her sentence. Dyret grabbed his sword and with his last ounce of strength, sliced at her head. The witch immediately gasped. Her feet started fading into dust. It moved up her legs. She screamed, but then disappeared.

  Dyret nodded to punctuate her demise. "No one insults my fiancé."

  A cackle sounded behind them. “No one kills a witch that easily.”

  Dyret’s vision swam and his last thought was: Evelyn—and then everything went completely dark.

  Evelyn grabbed Dyret’s sword and stepped in front of him.

  The witch flicked her hand and the sword went flying out of Evelyn’s grasp; her heart skipped a beat as Evelyn faced this dangerous foe.

  “You can’t kill me,” the witch said in a musical voice.

  “But I can sure try.”

  The two of them circled each other, neither of them making the first move for several minutes. Evelyn shot a worried glace at Dyret; she hoped he would be okay. The witch spun her hand in the air and there was suddenly a fireball headed straight for Evelyn’s head. She ducked and rolled across the ground up behind the witch.

  “What do I have to do to make you die?” Evelyn said between clenched teeth as she grabbed the witch from behind.

  “Win,” the witch answered almost gleefully. “And we both know that’s not happening.” She flung Evelyn off of her like she was nothing more than an irritating bug. “Oh I am so enjoying this.”

  Evelyn grunted and flung herself at the witch. “I will kill you if I have to die to do it.”

  The witch laughed. “Ah but that’s the thing, dear. You will have to die.”

  Dyret groaned on the ground and that distracted the witch for the few seconds Evelyn needed to grab Dyret’s sword again. She charged at the hag and stabbed the sword right through her chest. She twisted it and the witch howled in pain.

  “You can’t kill me!” The witch said almost desperately, “It’s impossible.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Evelyn held the sword in the witch’s body and groaned as the pommel grew hot in her hand, but she refused to let go.

  The witch struggled. “I can heal any of my wounds. No matter how bad it is,” she spluttered.

  “Maybe, but not if the thing wounding you stays lodged in your heart.” She gave the sword another painful twist and lodged it deeper into the witch’s body.

  A faint attempt at magic was the last effort the witch could go for before she slumped to the ground. Her face began aging rapidly and her skin cracked and darkened. Evelyn held the sword in her heart until she was sure the witch was dead before she pulled it out and watched as the body melted into the damp ground. Oh I hope she’s really dead this time, her tired mind thought as she stumbled over to Dyret.

  Dyret was just waking up and he leapt to his feet in alarm. “Evelyn!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Evelyn rushed to Dyret and he embraced her. His eyes took in her face, and although her tanned skin was coated with dirt, scars, and soot from the fire, she was still the most beautiful thing in the world to him. He buried his face in her hair and held her close to him. Then he realized Evelyn was sobbing. He looked at her eyes—the eyes that he could stare at all day—only to see tears streaming down her face.

  “Are you okay? Are you hurt badly?” She took his injured arm in her hands and examined the wound, worry etching her features.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine. Just glad to be alive.” He grinned at her. “Glad you’re alive.”

  Evelyn pressed her lips to his. She tasted like sweat but Dyret didn’t care. He put an arm around her waist and wiped away her tears. “You’re safe now. It’s all okay now. Everything is okay.”

  Evelyn nodded.

  Back at the castle, Evelyn and Dyret stood in an empty stone room. A few things were still smoldering from the fire, so they stomped on them until they burned no more. It appeared that they got lucky and it rained while they were gone.

  Evelyn stared at the floor. Dyret was the only thing she had now. David was gone. Her old friends from the village had probably forgotten about her…

  She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Dyret smiling at her. “You should go get cleaned up, Sweet.”

  Evelyn looked down at her shirt. It was ripped at the bottom and her pants were burned to shreds up to the knees. Her skin was plastered with mud and soot. “Yeah, I suppose I don’t smell that great, huh?”

  She went to her room where there was a tub for washing. The water was freezing and there wasn’t much of it, so she went out to get more. When she’d drawn her bath, she sunk down deep beneath the water, up to her chin, and sighed.

  After her bath, she found a dress that was untouched by the fire and changed quickly. A knock sounded on her door and she went to open it. Dyret smiled at her and looked over the dress. “Nice dress. That used to be my mother’s.” He smiled. “Okay, so look. I was thinking that maybe we should go see your father. Maybe he’ll be more open to us…” he waved a ha
nd between him and Evelyn, “if we explain things to him. He still sees me as a monster.” Hurt flashed in his eyes when he said the last sentence.

  “Maybe.” Evelyn pushed past him into the hall, her skirts rustling. “I guess it’s worth a try.”

  They headed out for the farm and when they got there, Dyret knocked politely on the door.

  Evelyn’s father opened the door. He looked Dyret up and down, not seeing Evelyn, who was standing directly behind Dyret. Then he slammed the door in Dyret’s face.

  Evelyn stepped in front of Dyret and stared at the closed door.

  “Nice guy.” Dyret muttered.

  “I know,” she sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault…”

  She pounded on the door. “Father! Please, open the door!”

  The door opened again and Aaron stared at his daughter. He stared at her for a minute, and then stepped to the side to let them in.

  “What do you want?” Aaron asked. “You ran out of the house so you wouldn’t have to face me and then you come back. Why?”

  “I…” Evelyn looked at Dyret for help. She knew that the right way to get married was to have the blessing of her father, but she was beginning to have second thoughts. Maybe she shouldn’t have come—what did she expect anyway? Her father wouldn’t bless her marriage.

  “We want your blessing on our marriage,” He offered.

  Aaron snorted. “So you’re him.”

  Dyret lowered his head in respect. “Dyret, sir.”

  “Well, Dyret. You do not and will never have my blessing to marry my daughter.” He said it so flatly Evelyn forgot how to breathe.

  “Please, you don’t understand, Papa…”

  “Oh, it’s ‘Papa,’ now is it?” He turned on Evelyn. “You have no right to call me that. You are not my daughter. I don’t have a daughter.”

  “Father—”

  “Get out.”

  They both stared at him.

  “Get out!” Aaron roared.

  “Ev, come on.” Dyret took her hand and pulled her toward the door.

  Tears dripped down Evelyn’s cheeks. Before she left, she turned back to look at her father.