White Hart

by Sarah Dalton

  Chapter Eleven – The Wood Nymph of Welhewan

  We decide to keep walking long into the night. Glowbugs light our way, casting a hazy glow through the blue forest. Still the birds sing, and I find myself relaxing and being captivated by the nature around me. My muscles unclench, my arms drop from around my body, and once or twice, I catch myself smiling as I admire bluebells and fallen leaves.

  Yet inside, my body aches for food and water. It’s a strange sensation, like the forest is purposefully tricking me into contentment, when I should be feeling the exact opposite.

  “Welhewan is charming us,” Sasha says in an unsure voice. “It is trying to soothe us with its lullaby. Do not let yourself… Oh, a butterfly. Look how beautiful it is! No, don’t look. The forest is making us happy, and we cannot let it.”

  “The butterfly is very pretty,” Cas says, reaching out to catch it.

  “No!” Sasha and I say in unison.

  “Don’t touch it,” Sasha says. “It could be laced with poison.”

  My hand longs to trail amongst the lush grass, and my tongue desires the taste of the berries on the bush. The babbling brook tempts us from afar, and instead we have to drink the stale, cloudy water from the last stream we crossed before Welhewan. I let out a long groan of frustration.

  “You have to fight it,” Sasha says. “The woods are trying to draw you in, but it’s a trick.” Even as she says the words, she leans down towards a flower...

  “No, Sasha!” I call out.

  She straightens up and half collapses against the horse. “I’m weak. I can’t… I can’t fight it when my body is so weak.”

  “We have to get out of here, fast,” I say.

  Cas leans back on to Gwen’s quarters and stretches his arms out wide. I have to catch his arm to stop him falling. “Oh, but look at the stars in the sky.”

  “Get a grip, Cas. This is the Waerg Woods, not a pretty palace in Cyne for you to gawp at.”

  He pouts and leans forward. Welhewan seems to bring the pampered prince out in him. “Do you know what I want? I want the finest Cyne chocolate and liquorice. I want a castle built out of gingerbread like Mother had made for my tenth birthday, and I want a ceremonial sword with rubies in the hilt, and…”

  As Cas continues listing the things he wants, Sasha’s head appears around the back of Gwen. “Is he always like this?”

  “No,” I say. “The forest is getting to him. It seems to be turning him into a spoilt brat again.”

  Sasha chuckles. “What a king in the making we have. No wonder we call him the Pinhead Prince.”

  “You what?” Quick as a flash, I’m around the other side of Gwen, and I press my face close to Sasha’s as we walk. “How dare you—”

  “Touched a nerve, have I?” she sneers at me.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Her sneer spreads into a grin that stretches from ear to ear. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks in indignation. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You, and the prince,” she says, leaning forwards so Cas—who is still reciting a list of all his wildest wants—can’t hear us. “You like him.”

  I turn away from her in disgust. “Don’t be so ridiculous. I’m stuck here with him because I want to get my stag back and find the people who killed my father.”

  “That’s what you keep telling yourself,” she says. I can hear the mocking laughter in her voice. “Wait, you said you’re looking for a stag?”

  “Yes, he disappeared days ago. I need to find him. Have you seen him?” My voice rises in increments as my desperation increases.

  “I saw a sizeable white beast, bridled and saddled like a regular horse. When I tried to approach him, he galloped off into the woods and I lost him,” she says.

  “Where!” I demand. “Where did you see him? You must tell me at once.”

  “It was over two days ago now. I was near the Sleeping Willow—”

  Cas cries out, interrupting us both. “She’s here!” He rises from Gwen and lands on the ground with a thud. “Oh! She is here, and she is everything I wanted. Ellen, my Ellen.”

  He runs forward, ahead of us, and I have no choice but to leave Sasha standing by Gwen and chase Cas. Further along the path, a bright white light shines so bright that I have to shield my eyes. A pastel blue glow emanates from the light, and as I get closer, I notice a shadowy figure inside. Cas runs full pelt towards this figure with his arms outstretched.

  “My beautiful Ellen,” he croons. “Come to me, my future bride.”

  I manage to grab onto his tunic to slow him down, but he turns back and savagely swats my hand away. The expression on his face is contorted into a troll-like version of himself, with bulging veins on his head and eyes so wide they pop out of his skull. I take a step back and clamp my hand to my mouth. That was not Cas. It was something else.

  I compose myself and chase the prince as he continues towards the figure in the light. As I get closer, I realise that it is not Ellen at all, but a very beautiful young woman dressed in green, with bare legs and a flowing cape which reaches the floor but does not cover her front. Instead, her body is covered by living, growing vines which hug every curve of her body. They pulsate as she breathes, and the flowers open and close with each rise. She smiles, and it is a pleasant, calm smile. Her mouth is full, upturned and sensual. Her eyes are a bright violet, oval-shaped and wide. Her skin is like the colour of milk, and her hair flows down her body in undulating waves of gold.

  She flickers like a flame, like the twinkling stars in the sky. She is ethereal, yet seems tangible. I blink more than once when I see her. Her attention is completely taken with Cas, as though he is the only other person in the world. She doesn’t seem to see me.

  “Come to me, my prince,” she says. Her voice is like a harp, rising and falling in song. She sounds as beautiful as she looks. “Come and we will live a happy life together.”

  Cas’s face fills with joy. His eyes are open wide, his lips relaxed in contentment. He opens his arms as though to bask in her gorgeousness. “I will, my dear. My love. I will go to you.”

  “Wait!” I shout. I jump between Cas and the strange creature. “That’s not Ellen.”

  “Who is this?” says the creature. Her voice becomes a cold growl, all promises removed. “Why does she challenge our love? Get rid of her, Casimir.”

  “Yes, my one and only.” Cas moves towards me in mechanical steps. His eyes are blank, and the expression on his face turns slack. He appears to have only one singular thought: to eliminate me.

  “Cas, stop. Don’t you see what she’s doing?” I say, backing away from him.

  He continues striding towards me and unsheathes his sword. He lifts it in front of his face and grips the hilt with both hands. I have nothing but a small dagger to defend myself with, seeing as my bow is still attached to Anta’s saddle.

  “You don’t want to do this, Cas. That woman is not Ellen. She’s just a—”

  He swings the sword, forcing me to duck. As I do, I lose my footing and find myself off-balance, causing me to fall onto the leaves below, landing on my buttocks with a bump. Cas lifts the sword and thrusts it down in a horizontal strike. My heart surges as I manage to roll to the left just in time, so that the prince brings his sword down onto the soil instead. There it sticks in the mud, giving me enough time to run back to Sasha.

  “It’s the wood nymph,” I say, almost out of breath. “It has done something to Cas and now he’s trying to kill me.”

  “Oh, so now you believe me,” she taunts.

  “This is not the time,” I reply. “If you don’t tell me how to break the spell, he’s going to kill me.”

  “Why should I help you?” she says. “You’ve half-starved me since you captured me.”

  Cas appears from the other side of the horse with his dirty sword pointed straight for me. He charges and I duck to the side. Sasha has to move herself and Gwen out of his way.

  “That
’s why. He’ll kill you too!” I hold out my dagger and plant my feet shoulder width apart, ready to spring or dodge out of his way.

  “Fine,” she says, with a roll of her eyes. “But this is all your fault, you know. You’re so obsessed with this silly notion of revenge that you put yourself and the prince in danger. I told you to turn back—”

  “Just tell me!” Cas chases me down with his sword. Ducking and diving is not enough. If this carries on, I’ll have to hurt him, or run away, or tie him up or something.

  “He has to see the wood nymph in her true form.”

  “And what’s that?” I ask. Sweat trickles down my forehead. I have to force every word out between deep breaths.

  “I don’t know. The wood nymphs have a true face, one they rarely ever show,” Sasha says.

  “That’s not very helpful.” I dodge another of Cas’s blows.

  The only thing I can do is lead Cas back to the wood nymph and hope that somehow she will show her true face. Perhaps it’s something I can trick her into, like how I tricked Sasha into thinking we were going to leave her to the Nix. Maybe it’s like the marketplace negotiations. I have to figure out what her trigger is.

  I sprint back to the bright light with the ethereal woman. Being near the wood nymph actually makes it easier to fight Cas. He is slightly distracted by her presence, long enough for me to take his sword. The nymph stares at him aghast.

  “But my prince, you are letting her win,” says the nymph. “Why aren’t you fighting for me? Don’t you love me?”

  Cas drops to his knees. “I love you more than anything.” His voice croaks with desperation. It twists at my heart to see the emotions she is forcing upon him.

  “No he doesn’t.” I square up to the nymph. “He doesn’t love you at all. You’re compelling him to feel, and that is not love. I bet you don’t even know what it’s like. I bet you’ve never lost someone, not like I have.”

  Her violet eyes flash towards me. “You will mind your tongue in my presence, girl.”

  Cas gets to his feet and begins to walk towards me with his fists clenched. “You do not speak to my Ellen like that.”

  “That isn’t Ellen!” I scream. “Ellen is much prettier, for a start.”

  The nymph narrows her eyes. Her face contorts into a mask of rage. For a brief moment, she is ugly. Then I realise: the trigger is anger. If I can make the nymph angry enough to show her true face to Cas, this will all be over.

  “No one is more beautiful that I am,” says the nymph, swirling her cape and lifting her chin up in the air. “I am the nymph of Welhewan, and I break the heart of every man who crosses my path.” She lifts her arm and makes her hand into a fist, squeezing it shut with her eyes flashing. Cas clutches at his chest and drops to the ground.

  “No!” I rush towards the nymph with Cas’s sword raised. When I come within striking distance, I hesitate. I lift the sword, still not sure of where to hit the nymph. I glance towards Cas, who writhes along the floor. “Let him go, or I will kill you.”

  The nymph tilts her head back and laughs. “You have not got what it takes to kill me, girl. I see through you like you see through me.” She indicates her ethereal form. “You aren’t capable of killing anything, not even the wildlife in the forest.”

  “That’s not true,” I retort. “I am here to avenge my father’s death. I will bring the murderers to—”

  She cackles so hard that I stop and my arms begin to tremble. The nymph steps forward and lifts her arm higher. Cas cries out in pain.

  I swing the sword, bringing it down on her arm and slicing open the vines wrapped around her. The nymph laughs again. “You barely drew blood. How pathetic.”

  This time a rush of hot blood courses through my veins so that it pounds in my ears and I can feel my pulse in my fingertips. I drop the sword to the ground, and instead I use my anger to call upon the familiar. The air begins to pulsate around us, and a buzzing builds to a crescendo. Her face contorts until it twists into a grimace, showing her as the grotesque creature she really is.

  “Craft-born.” She spits the word out as though it tastes like bile. “It cannot be. There has been no other.” She shakes her head and backs away.

  Hundreds of glowbugs and butterflies appear from behind me. Tiny birds and insects with elongated thoraxes surround the nymph. She tries to bat them away, but they cover her, pecking, stinging, and flying at her skin. Now her true face emerges—it is gnarly and old, as though made from the tree itself, with thick dark skin.

  She hisses like a cornered snake, writhing under the fluttering wings. “Craft-born, if you think you can fight against this forest, you are wrong. You may have power, but it is nothing compared to the power in this soil. The Waerg Woods will chew you up and spit you out. We don’t want the craft-born here, ruining our ways. We will eliminate you.” The nymph reaches out with her twisted fingers, as though to scratch me with her root-like nails, before disintegrating back into the tree behind her. There her face freezes into the bark as if it has always been part of the tree and nothing more.

  The insects and birds circle me once, and I thank them as they fly away. When they’re gone, I can’t stop staring at the contorted face of the wood nymph. It’s only after I hear Cas’s croak for help that I remember he is still here, and he could have heard what the nymph said to me.

  I rush to his side. “Casimir!”

  He climbs to his feet, rubbing his chest and neck. “The woman, she… What was that? I think I became unconscious.” He moves over to the tree, and his eyes open wide in wonder. “That was her? But I was so sure it was Ellen. So sure.” His head falls forward, and he closes his eyes as though in terrible pain. “Why would anyone trick someone like that? It’s so cruel.”

  “I know,” I say. I put a gentle hand on his arm. “Come on. Let’s go back to Sasha.”

  As we approach the girl, I realise from the mask of shock frozen on her face that she overhead the conversation between the nymph and me. Behind Cas’s back, I shake my head at her, hoping that she will not reveal my secret.

  “It’s fine, Sasha,” Cas says, presuming her shock is from seeing the wood nymph. He rubs her shoulders soothingly. “The creature has gone back to where it came from. We’re safe now.”

  I hand Cas his sword. “We should get out of here,” I say. “We’re not stopping until we can’t see another blue leaf.”

  As we move off, Sasha’s eyes find me and hold my gaze. She’s open-mouthed and completely silent. I grip my dagger and stare at my feet, uncomfortable with the accusation on her face. As we move away from Welhawen, all I can think about is the wood nymph’s warning. The Waerg Woods wants to chew me up and spit me out. I’m not welcome here, and my life is in danger.

  Chapter Twelve – The Magic of the Sleeping Willow

  It’s not until we have put enough distance between us and the nymph to stop the chill in my bones that I question Sasha about the sleeping willow tree. The forest changes around us. I begin to recognise birch trees. The path widens, and there are a few clearings between the trees on soft banks of green grass. The sun is beginning to set, turning our colourful world into a blurry grey. Soon it will be black.

  “In the centre of the forest, the trees are alive. They have been for centuries. At one time they moved, stretched their branches and roots to capture prey,” Sasha tells us.

  “Father told me about a place where trees come alive,” I say. “I wasn’t sure if it was real or not.”

  “Oh, it’s real,” she continues, “but they haven’t come alive for many years. Right in the middle of the sleeping forest is the sleeping willow. It’s the tallest tree in Aegunlund, and the wisest.”

  “The wisest?” says Cas. “You mean, it talks?”

  Sasha nods.

  Cas starts to laugh. “No. It can’t. Talking trees don’t exist.” He pauses. “Do they?”

  There’s no hint of a smile on Sasha’s lips. She only looks ahead evenly, being careful not to stumble on her ropes. “They do
exist, Prince.”

  Sasha doesn’t have much respect for Cas, and it makes my skin itch. There have been many times I’ve thought Cas to be a bit of a fool, but somehow when she treats him with disdain, it brings out a rash of temper in me. Above everything, he is thoughtful and has saved my life. I shake my head. Why am I thinking of Cas when I should be concentrating on getting Anta back?

  “Where is it? Which direction? Can you help us get there?” I ask.

  Sasha tries to hold her hands up as if in surrender, but Gwen pulls her forward with a jerk. “Whoa, hold on, it’s dark. We can’t go there tonight. We need to camp and get rest.”

  “She’s right,” Cas says. “Gods prevail, we need a rest after that awful wood nymph thing. I ache all over.”

  “You didn’t think she was awful before,” I mutter. “You were quite taken with her, if I remember rightly.”

  “Only because she tricked me into thinking she was Ellen,” he retorts. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have been interested at all.” He puts his nose in the air as though he is above the situation, but I can tell he is embarrassed by the pink flush on his cheeks.

  Sasha sighs. “Look, we can sleep on the clearing on that bank. It’s an open space, and we’re away from Welhewan. You can make the fire there.” She nods to a patch on the ground.

  “I think I’ll decide where we make the fire,” I say, a hint of growl coming out in my voice.

  “Fine,” she says through gritted teeth. “I can’t walk any further. I need rest, and I need to be out of these ropes.”

  Cas reins in Gwen and dismounts. I stand opposite Sasha and shake my head. “Oh, no way. We’re not letting you go. Do you think I’m stupid? You’d slit our throats in our sleep.”

  Her eyes flash. “I would not.”

  “I think you want to get back to your murdering family,” I say, “and I think you’ll do anything to get there.”

  She approaches me. The rope allows her to get within a few steps of me. In the moonlight I see the way her blue eyes twinkle, and her pale skin glistens with sweat. “Don’t get all high and mighty with me,” she says in a whisper. “You have more secrets than anyone in this camp, and we wouldn’t want them to get out.”