by H. R. Rekow
Those in the wagon demanded silence with desperate hisses and waving hands. Olivia stared wide-eyed at the Lunaris, not knowing if the unspoken title of Wraiths’ might would summon the immortal phantoms from the gloom. Sobriina lay a hand over her mouth as she looked for one mortified face to another.
“Mistress Sobriina les Desoreel,” Duke Aldret said with grave sincerity. “Never speak the name of Wraiths’ power. Spoken words carry authority, and such dark arts are best left abandoned in darkness for The Wizard to administer justice upon.” Sobriina nodded slowly and sealed her lips, giving apologetic glances between Theron and Olivia.
“I will tell you now all that is recorded concerning Lord Demus’s nature,” Duke Aldret continued, “though much is based on ignorant superstitions. As the folklores state, he claimed Wraith’s Hollow as his own—”
“—After the War of the Royals and the rebellion in Suvaria,” Theron interrupted.
“And,” Duke Aldret continued, “subsequently, the forest has developed a troubled charisma.” Olivia shivered as she moved closer to Theron. She wondered if the blind elvish ghosts still wandered Deep Wilds in search of their gouged out eyes. She had never seen a ghost before.
“Charisma?” Theron frowned as he stared at Duke Aldret. “Not the word I would use—”
“My personal verdict; I should clarify,” the half-giant said and lifted his chin. “A beast’s mind is compelled to ominous environments. Such is our home, and, as you recollect, my prince, I am half beast.”
Olivia eyed Duke Aldret, her knuckles white as they gripped her hands. He turned to look in her direction, and she glanced away before their eyes met.
Duke Aldret continued, unconcerned with the wide-eyed looks of his companions, “After Lord Demus came, so did hags, Shadow Minstrels, Flesh Thieves, Charnelics, and a swarm of other abhorrent beings. The forest was proclaimed lethal and haunted a hundred and forty-seven years ago. Every resident immediately evacuated.”
The three listeners sat with their eyes wide, their breath whispering in and out faster than before.
“Therefore,” Duke Aldret continued, unhindered by his companions’ uneasiness, “Lord Demus rules Wraith’s Hollow and, as the accounts state, all the shady beasts conform to his authority. He raids whoever enters his forest and, it is said, none are left alive, except a select few. They are taken to his domain and are never seen again. Such is the old wives’ tale and vagabond nonsense.”
Olivia quivered and looked outside, her eyes narrowed suspiciously when she found nothing but tree upon tree deep in silence.
“To be true,” Duke Aldret said and glanced out his window, his voice hushed, “many have attempted to seek out and subdue the Spellbinder, but all their efforts end in vain. Either they are driven mad by starvation or the forest’s delusional effect, or they never discover a sign that the Spellbinder lives. It is very outlandish indeed—”
“Why are we discussing this?” Olivia hissed. Duke Aldret glanced at the lady as she gritted her teeth and tried to stay calm.
Theron took in a breath and laughed, his grin splitting through his wide-eyed stare. “Nice legend.” He rested against his seat and cleared his throat. Olivia shot him a hot look, but held her tongue. “I always have enjoyed stories like these. He must be really old then, Lord Demus? And to think, we’re trembling over a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old, bent-over man.” The prince smiled and shook his head, yet he did not let go of his sword.
Aldret stroked his chin. “In all probability, Lord Demus is not one man, but several who inherited the title from the one before them. No human could live such a long time.”
“And I’ve heard he’s eight feet tall and his eyes blaze like fire.” Theron grinned. “He also drinks poison for every meal and sleeps on a bed of nails.” He shook his head again. “What about the tower? To the northwest, close to Trail Kin’s territories?”
“That is believed to be truth, my prince,” Sobriina said.
Theron humphed. “And is it your belief?”
The she-elf’s brows rose. “I . . . it does not matter if it is true or false. ’Tis only a tower.”
“Crazy children’s tales.”
Olivia squirmed in her seat and took in a shaky breath. “Can we stop talking about him? Please.” She looked between the half-blood and prince, then turned away. “It troubles me.”
Theron’s eyes shadowed irritably. “All right, but they’re only stories—”
“I second the motion,” Sobriina said with a lift of her chin. “Such tales do not warm the soul when traveling through their origin’s shadow. The only danger is off Savior’s Way; let us not invite them onto the road with our words. I regret asking about the Spellbinder.”
“Very well, my ladies.” Duke Aldret nodded and silently turned to face the window.
Something touched Olivia’s arm, and she jumped with a shrilled squeak. Theron’s eyes widened as he withdrew his hand from her arm and stared at her. Red seeped into Olivia’s cheeks and she turned away.
“Hey,” Theron said and grabbed her hand. “They are simply stories—”
“There is always a grain of truth in every story.” Olivia’s eyes widened as she noticed the rough edge of her tone. She glanced at the prince and shrunk back. “I . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“You’re frightened,” Theron whispered as she swallowed hard. He smiled, though his brow furrowed. “You are safe here. My men are the best.”
Olivia looked away. She squeezed his hand and would not let go.
Chapter 10
Tiptoeing Love
Night fell and the wood finally awoke. Ravens and owls fluttered in the high limbs and called to one another. Their cackled cries alarmed the horses and caused them to stomp and neigh. The wind stirred and moaned between the trunks, so the branches contorted further. As the sun set, the orange sky cast a pale red through the trees and onto the travelers. The shadows jolted this way and that as the wind and ruby light gave them life.
The caravan creaked to a stop at Sir Elshender’s command as Olivia looked back down Savior’s Way. The forest’s lone road curved around a bend amid the trees and faded into nothing. She looked around and wanted to know how far they had traveled into the wood. As she turned from one tree to another, she realized they looked identical to the trees they had passed hours ago. Olivia’s brows knotted together and she bit back a whimper. She did not know where she was, or how far they had left to go. She was lost and would die if she were separated from the group. She would be—
Sobriina laid a hand on her shoulder. “Be at peace, my lady,” she whispered. “You shan’t overanalyze this bewitched place. Peace is what combats chaos; therefore, peace is what we need.”
Olivia shook her head as she continued to stare at the trees. “But I have no peace. Where does one find it?”
“The Wizard, my lady.”
That answers nothing, Olivia thought, but bit her tongue.
The members of the caravan were unhappy about stopping and setting up camp, for each longed to reach Henricien as soon as possible. Though, it was night and they needed their rest. Everyone was sore, and rubbed aching limbs as they talked in hushed whispers. Servants and the knights’ squires unloaded tents and bedding as Olivia’s ladies-in-waiting prepared the meal. Because there was no traffic on the road that evening, the camp was set up on Savior’s Way. They crammed in a line along the road and wove in and around one another. No one dared step under the trees, for none knew what lay in hiding.
Elshender circled his men around the site and told them to keep their eyes peeled and weapons ready. Blankets, thick cloaks, and robes covered each person as the small beams of light from the red sun melted away. The travelers’ breath puffed white from their lips as they stood together. A few fires were lit, but each was small and short-lived, for fear that those in the forest would notice, and no one could predict what a curious beast would do.
Lady Olivia, Theron, Aldret, Sobriina, and Elshender sat together around a fire. A thick, coar
se blanket covered Olivia as she sat on a grass-woven mat. She stared into the fire without a word. No one spoke, and the few servants’ conversations seemed loud in the silence. Nan, Krea, and Cedany rushed to and fro as they gave the men their meal of bread, cold meat, and ale.
Krea bowed as she approached the seated five, and handed Olivia bread and cheese with warmed ale. The two women smiled as they met each other’s gaze, but their eyes were wide with wary fear. The others were served as each sat in stillness.
Olivia turned her cheese over and over in her hands. She picked a piece of dirt from its pale side and forced herself to take a bite. She looked to Cedany, Krea, and Nan as they fed the men. She wanted to sit by them, to have Krea brush her hair as Nan told her stories of The One in Red.
She watched Nan cut slices of cheese to give to the men, surprised by how quickly she had come to rely on Nan. The elderly woman had begun her service that early spring, but already a firm bond had been made. Olivia was pleased with the snowy-crowned woman, and grateful to come across a motherly servant. It was what she had always wanted: a mother.
She watched as Nan slowed her work, her eyes downcast and knife frozen in her hand. Nan discreetly looked to those close by, not noticing Olivia. When satisfied, Nan let the knife fall from her hands. As she stooped to grab it, she picked up a small object as well. Olivia’s eyes narrowed curiously. It was a stone, gray and round. Olivia stopped eating and stared as Nan ran her fingers over the stone’s surface. She kissed it. Olivia’s eyes widened. After a moment, Nan slipped the stone into a pouch and continued slicing the cheese.
Olivia blinked without a word. Never in her life had she seen anyone caress a stone, let alone kiss it. That was just not done. But she had heard some people did, those that lived in the deepest woods.
“This is more of a peaceful wood than I thought,” Theron said, breaking the silence. No one answered.
Olivia pulled her eyes away from Nan and turned to Theron, astonished that he would say such a thing. “I shan’t sleep tonight,” she whispered and poked at her bread. “Shan’t. I’m glad you feel the peace, but there is none here for me.”
Theron glanced down at her as he stood, his fox fur cloak draped around his shoulders and his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Nothing will reach you. The Wizard’s here.” Olivia looked up at him. “He will protect us.”
She turned away, but the fear did not leave her eyes.
“And I will protect you.” Theron looked away as he spoke. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight.
Olivia half-grinned. “I know.”
The group ate the meager meal, and silently wished they could build a bonfire and feel its warmth and find comfort in its light. Something shifted among the trees. Olivia’s eyes bulged as every muscle froze. The others looked as well, each tense and alert. Theron’s grip of his sword tightened. Duke Aldret put down his ale. Sobriina’s purple eyes darted to and fro, and her mouth opened. “A Wraith,” she whispered.
“Wizard forbid!” Olivia hissed. A Wraith. Here!
The shadow moved again. She leaned closer to Theron. A crow shot from the underbrush with a cry, a guard flinching as it flew past and a horse rearing up and stomping the ground. Those around the fire sighed as though sharing one breath, and turned back to their food. Theron grinned to himself and rubbed the back of his neck as he let go of his sword. Aldret glanced down at his ale and drank the rest of it in one huge gulp.
“A Wraith.” Olivia shook her head and shot Sobriina an icy look. The she-elf stiffened at the young lady’s glance. “What a cursed thing to say!”
“I meant nothing,” Sobriina said as she turned away. “And it wasn’t one; therefore, The Wizard should be thanked.”
Olivia shook her head, her eyes sharp. “But it could have been, stones on bones!”
“We would have recognized its ominous presence long before we saw it, my lady,” Duke Aldret said as he set down his cup and pulled his furred robe closer to himself. “The flames would churn as though in a tempest, and condensation would collect about our exhales.”
“Misty breath and wild fires.” Theron stared between the darkened trees. “Interesting combination.”
Olivia turned from Aldret to her prince. “We would see it only if it wanted to be seen. I hear they are always invisible, those wretched monsters!” Her heart pounded in her ears like a drum. She shook her head and looked down at her barely touched food. She did not feel hungry, and had never liked warmed ale anyway. Krea should have known that!
With a sigh, she pushed the food away and stood. “We should have brought a Seer.” Theron glanced at her. “They know how to deal with all that is not of the Red.”
“Ah,” Sobriina said. “They know the art of spirits and future-telling, yet, by the Silver Eye, I say a sword to them is like a hoe in a fisherman’s hands. No, my lady, it is well we have knights at our side. A Seer can do many things, yet . . . protection against bloody dangers is not one of them.”
“I bid you goodnight, then.” Olivia bowed to the prince and Duke Aldret. “I cannot sit in tension, so I’ll try to find peace in sleep.”
“I’ll escort you,” Theron said as he stepped forward. Olivia took his outstretched arm and they nodded their farewells.
Theron walked Olivia to her tent, which she shared at the center of the camp with her ladies-in-waiting. Her bodyguard was stationed at the tent’s entrance, and he bowed low as the couple approached. The young lady glanced up to the intertwined branches, darkening the sparkle of the stars. A twig snapped. Olivia jumped and stepped closer to Theron.
He looked down at her, seeing Olivia’s wide eyes darting here and there. He looked away and gritted his teeth. “You know, Lord Demus is a myth.”
Olivia looked down.
“There’s no such thing as a Spellbinder—”
“That still doesn’t settle me much,” she whispered.
They came to stop at her tent and Theron looked at the shadows cast over the ground. “I . . .” Olivia looked at him and Theron cleared his throat. “I just want you to be safe.”
Olivia sighed and grabbed his hand. “Thank you.” Theron looked at her and a small grin lit her eyes. “For protecting me.”
Theron glanced away, though she saw that he smiled. Olivia watched him as he breathed in and out, and the white frost of his breath curled around his lips. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek with a sudden peck, and stepped back.
Theron’s eyes widened as he turned toward her.
“Goodnight,” Olivia whispered, and she moved toward the tent.
Theron grabbed her arm and drew her close against him. Olivia gasped, and he kissed her on the lips. She closed her eyes and kissed back. The bodyguard fought against a smile, and looked down as the betrothed couple took hold of one another.
Olivia’s heart pounded and her skin warmed. She stepped back with a deep breath and laid a hand over her mouth. She looked to and fro to those around her, but they busied themselves with chores and none other than the bodyguard saw the kiss. Theron, his eyes alive and a grin filling his complexion, cupped her face with one hand. Olivia looked up at him; his eyes were so brown, like that Suvarian delicacy she’d tasted years ago. Chocolate, was it called?
A distant wolf howled to the moon with a low, sad moan and everyone turned this way and that with rigid shoulders and darting eyes. Everyone save the pair. They did not hear the wolf, and did not fear the darkness for a brief moment.
“Goodnight,” Theron whispered. A smile lifted Olivia’s rosy lips, and redness flushed her complexion. She glanced away, but did not pull from him as her grin broadened.
Theron brushed her cheek and stepped away. Olivia almost held onto him, but stopped herself with a muffled laugh. “What?” he asked. She shook her head and let him go. She stared at him for the longest heartbeat, then turned on her heels and walked the few paces to her tent. She glanced back; he still watched her. She grinned.
She passed Krea and Cedany before she entered the tent
; the two women tried to busy their hands as they silently watched both of them. “Don’t say anything!” Olivia hissed as she passed through the tent’s entrance. The two ladies-in-waiting bowed low and tried not to giggle, their eyes shining bright with excitement.
Once inside, Olivia’s smile grew until it filled her whole body. She laid a hand on her chest and laughed. She sighed and touched her moist lips with a shake of her head. Olivia rubbed her temples and her heart’s glassy surface cleared to a shine.
Love tiptoed in.
Chapter 11
A Traveler’s Dread
Paced steps flattened the forest’s grass as a dark figure glanced to the encamped travelers, staying behind the trees so no one would see. The figure looked up and around, eyes wide against the darkness. Where is the cursed bird? . . .
Wings fluttered.
Talons scratched bark.
Frost hissed and overtook a limb.
The figure turned as the snowy owl fluffed her feathers and settled onto a high tree branch. “I—” The figure swallowed. “Pain has a way of uniting. Potentially, at least.” The white bird said nothing as it stared down with her hollow, icy eyes. “Pain is what should be used. That is what I think.”
“Wait,” the snowy owl whispered. “Lady Olivia shall be dealt with. In Wraith’s Hollow. Wraith’s Hollow. . .”
“No, no, listen. Tell the master there is another way. We can—”
“Dealt with in Wraith’s Hollow.”
“We can use the pain of losing that dame to—”
“Wait. Wait. Wait.”
“Poisoned air! Listen!” The figure peeked at the encampment with a hush, hair standing on end. “Stones on bones . . . Did he not give you something else to say? Any new message?”
“Wait,” the owl repeated. “Lady Olivia—”
“Silence!” the figure hissed. “I have an idea! We must use the master’s backup plan! Must use that horrid Wilder woman! Lady Olivia’s demise will give us nothing! Now, listen. I have it all planned to the slightest detail. Once she is removed from the equation, the throne can more easily be taken. Trust me.”
