The wind howled through the twisted dead finger branches of the ebony forest, reluctantly, with wide, fearful eyes, the horses trod deeper through the dark so thick it seemed a curtain brushing your face, vice cold hands ready to wrap round your throat and squeeze any moment.
"I hate this place," a king squeaked, feeling naked without is crown, "Why can`t we wait till daybreak?"
Patiently, his queen riding side saddle steeled her strength. "I`ve waited twenty-seven years for this moment; would you have me wait a second more?"
As a screeching wind cut through them like a blade, the trio stopped in a barren grove. A silver-shaking moonlight filtered through a mess of tangled webs, and burnt branches beckoning fools closer, was the only light source; anything it touched shied away as if like a vampire in the sun.
"Your majesty, I wish you`d reconsider."
With a roll of the eyes, the man who ruled a kingdom but not a wife, he cherished more slowly dismounted. "Yeah, me too."
"I`ll wait for you," The guard promised.
"No." Isobella spoke softly, "A deals a deal. Galamor, return to the palace; I can`t thank you enough for safe passage in this cruel place."
Thumping heart lightened by her praise, soul frozen by this witches’ deal, the Knight nodded farewell,
"Ma`am, your highness."
Quickly, he kicked the three horses to a break neck gallop, to escape the evil in the shadows, a deal the king and queen were protected, and he was not.
"Do you think he`ll make it?" Queen Isobella asked, hopeful.
The Knight wrapped his long coat over her trembling shoulders, and placed his hand on her back to lead the way. The two were fearful rabbits caught in headlights, as the barring nest of blood-stained thorns drew back and receded, granting them entrance further into the witches lair.
“Of course he will, honey; of course he will.” Alas, he already knew the truth.
Presently, the flick of a cold candlelight washed over the scorched forest, revealing spiders and scorpions scuttling about their feet. They wished that darkness would return as spandrel, wet things crunched like shards of glass.
"Killik?"
Holding each other, the king blew a shaky breath.
"It was your idea, honey."
Here lies a fool who listened to his wife, and not his head.
They stopped in front of the door that was cut into the side of a tree holding their secrets or nightmares, the king slowly eased a hand, fearing it was scalding hot, for the scent of sulfur burnt their lungs, surprisingly it was cool, he swung it open.
"I hope she’s in a good mood."
The grotto was a musty clutter of spell books and bubbling potions, where terror stricken, mutilated creatures of all kinds screeched for release from the knives holding them down. Candlelight flickering demon symbols written on walls in blood cast reaching shadows as if to attack the intruders.
Softly, a bundle of rags at a table raised a long, gnarled, boney finger, dry and wrinkled as a corpse in desert sun.
"Come in, don`t be frightened." A crone beckoned.
"I`m out," The king scarpered, dragged back kicking and screaming by his determined spouse. "Alright, alright," he said while snatching some dignity. He straightened himself, entered and yelped girl-like as the door slammed behind him.
"I hate it when she does that."
"I know why you`ve come," the crone cackled, not wanting them to flee before they`d sealed the contract, she kept her hood, rotted and thin as spiders silk up and her head down.
Killik smiled, nervous, "Hope so, otherwise your no good to us.", he hissed as Isobella jabbed her elbow in his side.
Sad, good fortune had not seen fit to grant them a child, Isobella smiled sweetly, not ready to spoil their chance. The crone laughed wickedly, knowing many years the queen was infertile, for as long as she`d served as her healer, she`d crushed undetectable contraceptive herbs into her fine meals, robbing her of an heir.
Only now was the time right to reverse that part of her plan.
"A fair trade then." The witch proposed, "Go from this hangman’s tree tonight to a glade where none shall venture, there, pick a blue rose, grind it to a fine powder, sprinkle into a warm drink, bake for nine months, and voila, but you must hurry for the blue rose only grows this night each century and shall be destroyed by dawns kiss, the coming of a comet shall signal when the time is right."
The king shuffled, coughed. "And the price?"
The witches demon eyes sparkled beneath her withered grey hair flowing over her face, ready for no mortal. "For you, there is no charge."
The king blinked, surprised he didn`t have to amputate an arm. "Thats it?, no land, no castles?"
The crone smiled as if saying not yet, but held her tongue, it would be a shame to spoil the surprise so quick.
Her generosity a rare welcome not wished to test, the king led his queen away before she changed her mind.
"There are just two things." the crone called softly. Killiks` heart froze, I thought there would be.
"Yes?" he felt blood freeze in his veins.
The witch laughed as if so trivial, "For the spell to work I shall need your blood."
The king stepped back, "How much?"
“Innocence itself, the witch replied, "I have given up that delicacy long ago, a drop shall suffice, blood for blood as it were."
"Please, honey." Isobella hugged him, parenthood never so close.
Reluctantly he nodded, flinching as the hag drew a blade over their hands, returning the stained daggers under her tattered robes as if the answer to her own prayers.
"And the second part of the deal?"
Literary Lunes Magazine: December 2011 Issue Page 11
