Emerald and the Elf King

by Becky Biggs

  As the cold sensation began to near her chest, she heard a thump and a whinny. Emerald’s eyes flew open and, standing before her, to her amazement, wasn’t just a horse. It was a . . . “Unicorn?” Emerald gasped in wonderment. She’d heard stories about them before, but, to her knowledge, no human had ever actually seen a unicorn. It was breathtakingly beautiful with hair as pure and white as snow and a horn on top of its head that shimmered and changed color as it moved. A pair of gossamer wings adorned either side of its muscular body. The unicorn nodded to Emerald.

  “Quick, get on!” Its voice was as smooth as vanilla ice cream. It kneeled down on its front legs in front of Emerald so she could grip its mane and swing herself up onto its powerful back. The lower half of her body was stiff, so Emerald struggled to pull herself up. Sensing this, the unicorn extended one of its wings and gently guided the princess onto its back.

  The unicorn quickly took flight and Emerald held on as tight as she could to its silky mane. As they rose away from the mist, she could feel the sensation coming back into her lower body like the pins and needles you get if your leg falls asleep. She looked down and found herself a bit dizzy to see the landscape flying by below them. Emerald buried her head in the unicorn’s mane.

  “Everything okay back there?” the unicorn called back in its silky voice.

  “Just a bit dizzy,” Emerald answered, still unable to push her head up from the unicorn’s back.

  “Happens to nearly everyone their first time flying,” the unicorn consoled her. “Unless they were born to fly, of course.”

  Emerald appreciated the unicorn’s effort, but her heart was still up in her throat. She began to take deep breaths and after a few moments, her heartbeat finally began to slow. She was also able to adjust her legs for a better grip on the unicorn now that she could actually feel them again.

  “Thank you for saving me,” Emerald said when she could finally lift her head and open her eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” the unicorn responded. “I found you just in time. A moment or two longer and you would have been lost to the marsh spirits.”

  Emerald stole a tentative look back down at the ground below them. Luckily this time she didn’t get nearly so dizzy. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Ortland was massive. The marshes stretched as far in every direction as she could see.

  “Incredible,” Emerald murmured, almost to herself. “Does anything even live out there?”

  “Quite startling, isn’t it? Aside from the marsh spirits—and you can’t exactly say they are ‘living’—not much can actually survive in Ortland. The evil king lived there, of course. He doesn’t have much of a soul. Suppose that’s why the marsh spirits didn’t bother him. There was also a troll who lived there once. I heard he disappeared. Poor guy. Never really recovered after being banished from Eseland.”

  “Are you talking about Harry?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?”

  “No,” Emerald said, taking another long look at the desolate landscape miles below their feet. “I met his mother, though.”

  “Ah, Mavis,” the unicorn said. “I heard she was a bit hard on him. She and some of the others in his family. I don’t think he ever felt like he fit in with them—or anywhere, really. The name’s Bia, by the way.”

  “Sorry?” asked Emerald. She was lost in her thoughts about how she could empathize with Harry. She didn’t feel as though she fit in with her family or anywhere either.

  “I’m Bia,” the unicorn said again, patiently.

  “Oh, I’m, uh, my name is Emerald,” Emerald said, flushing with embarrassment. She was glad the unicorn couldn’t see her face.

  “Nice to meet you, Emerald,” Bia said with a slight toss of her head. “We have a little way to go, but I’ll have you on the ground soon.”

  “Um, where are we headed? I was on my way to Eseland.”

  “Yes, I know. We’ve been waiting for you. You’re our last hope to save Eseland. And that’s where I’m taking you.”

  “Oh,” Emerald said, unsure of what else to say. “Um, sorry, but who’s we?”

  “There’s a small group of creatures from Eseland who have been trying to resist the king,” Bia responded. “Your godmother is one of them. I am another. There’s about a dozen more who haven’t been trapped by the king and are trying to find a way to defeat him. Now, rest, child. You’ll need your strength where you are going.”

  Emerald didn’t have the energy to argue. The gentle whoosh of the air and the sensation of flying soon lured her to sleep. She didn’t wake up again until she felt the thump of them landing on solid ground. She opened her eyes to see that they were now in a clearing in the woods in front of a small cottage. It was a simple wooden building with one window next to the front door. There weren’t any flower boxes or gardens to make it look homier, but it didn’t feel entirely unwelcoming either.

  Emerald slid off the unicorn and looked around. The woods on this side of Ortland didn’t look very different from those where she came from. She chuckled a little nervously. “I think I pictured something a bit more . . . magical,” Emerald said. Hoping she hadn’t offended Bia, she quickly added, “It is very pretty here, though.”

  Bia’s blue-green eyes twinkled. “Yes, it does look rather ordinary right now, doesn’t it?” She sighed. “You should see it when it is filled with pixies and imps and every color of butterfly. Then, magical is a perfect way to describe it. So much laughter and color and fun. Hasn’t been the same since King Spruce returned.” She stamped her front right hoof and snorted. “Well, hopefully you can help us restore our kingdom.”

  “My godmother thinks I can,” Emerald said, uncertainly. She was starting to feel the mounting pressure of her mission.

  “She’s very wise, your godmother,” Bia said. She nodded toward the cottage. “You should go in and rest. The tingling from the mist will be gone by morning. Before they disappeared, the border guards used this cottage. I don’t think there’s much in there, but you should find a bed and blankets. I’ll keep watch.”

  Emerald nodded and started toward the building but turned back. “I don’t have much to repay you,” Emerald said. The unicorn began to shake her head as if to say don’t worry about it. “But I do have food. Would you like something to eat?”

  “If all goes well, I’ll owe you more than a meal, Princess,” Bia said, but she gratefully accepted an apple before nudging Emerald toward the cottage.

  Inside it was very simple. The only furniture consisted of a table, two chairs, and a bed with a straw mattress in the corner. There was, however, a fireplace that had plenty of dry kindling in it and a flint next to it to help start the fire. That would be much easier than twisting a stick to make embers. Simple though it was, Emerald was very thankful to spend a night inside. She’d had enough of sleeping under the stars for a while.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE EVIL KING

  “Head straight down this path, take a right at the river, and continue on until you come to a fork in the road,” Bia said to Emerald, giving her directions the next morning before sending the princess on her way. “The king and his daughter are staying in a small house at the end of the path of colored stones.”

  “Thank you, Bia,” Emerald said. She was nervous but energized from her night of rest and a quick breakfast of apples and cheese that morning.

  “I would take you myself . . .” Bia said, her voice trailing off a bit sheepishly.

  Emerald nodded understandingly. “I know. You can’t get close to the king or the stone. Well, wish me luck!”

  She hugged the unicorn tightly around the neck, picked up her bow and arrows and flask, and started off down the path. The day was sunny and warm and the forest around her was alive with the sounds of chirping birds. Emerald could almost feel herself relaxing into the comfortable sensation of strolling through the woods on a beautiful day, but a sense of being followed soon whipped that feeling away.

  The farther she got from the cottage, the quieter th
e woods grew. Soon the peaceful day felt threatening and the thick shadows of the trees seemed to close in on her. The sensation that something was watching her, stalking her, only grew stronger as she walked. She looked sharply around multiple times, but nothing disturbed the stillness that had settled into the landscape around her.

  The woods were nearly silent by the time she reached the fork in the road Bia described. They were so quiet that the slightest noise made her jump. Though she hadn’t seen or heard the sound of any other creature for several hours, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being followed. She touched the bow on her back for reassurance.

  Emerald regarded her two options as she took a quick swig of water from her flask. One way, guarded by a dense forest of thick, thorny vines led to a beautiful old castle. She could only see the spires of the castle over the vines, but it was like no castle she’d ever seen before. It was large and graceful, like an iced wedding cake, and topped with white marble towers adorned with golden conical roofs shimmering in the sunlight. It was quite a bit more ornate than the sturdy stone castle she lived in.

  The other way was the path described by Bia. Colorful stones lined a walkway that led to a cottage. The little house looked as though it had been carved from gingerbread. It had a slanted roof that was just as colorful as the path leading up to the cottage, and the body of the house seemed to be decorated with white icing. Emerald stared at it, remembering stories she’d heard as a child of a witch who lived in such a cottage. The witch had used it to lure in unsuspecting children and make them her dinner.

  “Please, sir, you shouldn’t be here,” said a high-pitched, nervous voice. “Turn back before it’s too late.”

  Emerald shrieked, dropped the flask and spun, peering into the woods behind her. “Show yourself!” she demanded, pulling out her bow, loading it with an arrow, and aiming it in the direction of the voice.

  A small wood imp timidly stepped out from the trees. He could have been Maple’s brother as much as he looked like her. Emerald gasped and immediately lowered her weapon. She held her hands out, palms up, and crouched down to his level, hoping to show him she was no threat.

  “Do you know the king?” she asked, softly. “I was sent here to find him.”

  The boy shuddered and nodded slowly, but before he could answer they heard a long, slow creak as the door to the cottage began to open. He squeaked before disappearing back into the forest undergrowth.

  Emerald’s heart pounded loudly as she stared at the opening door. She imagined an ugly, menacing man appearing in the doorway, but to her surprise the man that stepped out was rather handsome and no older than her father. He smiled at Emerald with a mouth full of blindingly white teeth, but she could see an iciness in his pale blue eyes. This must be King Spruce.

  “Emerald, Emerald, oh so fair,” he purred softly in a voice like fresh butter, “why, oh why, have you come to my lair?”

  Emerald was startled that he knew who she was. She drew herself up to her full height, but the stutter in her voice betrayed her nerves.

  “I, uh, I’ve come to ask y—n-n-no tell you to leave our kingdoms alone.”

  “They sent a child to do a man’s work?” the king asked, stroking his chin and grinning mockingly. “How come your father isn’t here? Surely the life of a young princess is worth more than that of an old king.”

  Emerald was about to respond but the king quickly continued before she could get a word in.

  “Oh, that’s right. The legend. Only a hero of pure intent can defeat me.” As he spoke, the king rolled a small, glowing green object around in one hand. His smile grew wider and increasingly more wicked with each word. “Guess your old man is just as corruptible as me.”

  “He’s nothing like you,” Emerald retorted, staring at the thing in his hand. That had to be the stone her godmother had told her about. So the rumors were true—the king had somehow gotten the stone back from the troll.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” King Spruce grinned, noticing Emerald’s stare. “Don’t get any ideas, though. This stone is very precious to me.”

  Fueled by anger and disgust, Emerald raised her bow again. Maybe she could shoot the stone out of his hands. Before she could draw, though, the king clapped his hands. Her bow and arrow flew out of her hands and landed at King Spruce’s feet.

  “Now, now,” said the king. “A hero of pure intent shouldn’t shoot her newest friend, should she? No, that wouldn’t do. Let’s get to know each other a little better before making any . . . rash decisions, shall we?”

  Emerald glared at King Spruce, trying desperately to think of a way to outwit him. He simply held his hand out to her.

  “Please, join me. I won’t hurt you,” he said with his charming coolness. “There are some people I’d like you to meet.”

  He clapped his hands again and both the wood imp and a sullen young woman of about twenty years old appeared at the king’s side.

  “This beautiful young woman is my daughter, Raina,” the king said proudly, gesturing toward the dour young woman. She had long, wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. She could have been very lovely had it not been for her sour countenance. Raina stared at Emerald moodily.

  “Why is she dressed like a boy?” Raina asked snottily, eyeing Emerald up and down. Emerald suddenly felt self-conscious in her borrowed outfit. Sure, she might have liked something a little prettier, but none of her dresses were really “trooping through the woods and fighting an evil king” appropriate. She made a mental note to design some new adventure clothing for herself—if she made it out of Eseland alive.

  “Because she’s a hero, darling. I guess that’s what heroes are wearing these days.”

  “Hmmphf,” Raina grunted, wrinkling her nose and smoothing the skirt of her own beautiful gown.

  “And this”—the king gestured dismissively to the imp—“is Filari. Now, you’ll join us for tea,” he instructed Emerald. Emerald was about to protest but Filari came up and grabbed her arm. He was stronger than he looked.

  “Please be careful with our, ah, guest,” the king instructed Filari before turning back to Emerald. “Oh, and I’ll be taking your bow and arrows. You won’t be needing those here.” He snapped his fingers again and the bow and arrows shot up into his hands. He then turned and entered the little house, followed by his daughter.

  Filari looked at Emerald apologetically but pushed her forward with a surprising amount of strength. Once inside, the imp shoved Emerald into a wooden chair at a long, knotty table in the middle of the room. He bound her legs but left her hands untied.

  “Nice way to treat a guest,” Emerald grumbled.

  King Spruce, who had taken a seat in another chair at the table, looked up at her and laughed. “Well, we don’t want you running off before we’ve had a chance to talk, do we?” he said. He turned to Filari and snapped his fingers impatiently. “Filari, the tea.”

  Filari bowed with a frightened look on his face. “Right away, sir.” He darted over to a kettle hanging from a hook on the fireplace.

  “So hard to find good help these days,” King Spruce complained. “But I suppose you knew that—seeing as you came to face me all alone.”

  “Er, yes,” Emerald responded, looking around the cottage. It was small, but comfortably furnished. It consisted of one big room broken into sleeping, cooking, eating, and sitting areas. Two beds sat against the far wall. A pair of cushioned chairs and a footrest sat close to the stone hearth. She was trying to take note of any and every detail in case something could be used against the evil king.

  “Nice place,” Emerald said, trying to sound casual. “But why is a powerful king like you living in a cottage?”

  “Great question,” King Spruce said. “Perhaps you have a few brains in you yet.” Emerald tried to keep her face neutral at this remark, but it was really hard. “You see, my dear, when you are king—or queen—half the battle is appearance. I may have some, ahem, power, but how would it look if I just forced my way onto the throne�
��even if it is rightfully mine? No, my darling daughter here will marry her handsome prince and then no one will be able to question the legitimacy of our claim.”

  “Won’t that make her queen—and her husband, king?” Emerald asked, flicking her eyes at Raina. Raina just stuck out her tongue and continued preening in a small mirror she’d brought to the table. “You’ll just be father of the queen.”

  “Don’t worry, my dear, I’ve thought about that too,” King Spruce said, his smile widening. Filari returned to the table carrying a rattling tray topped by a steaming pot of tea and several small porcelain cups. He put a cup in front of the king, Raina, and Emerald with shaking hands and then began serving them. King Spruce paused for a moment to watch Filari with hawk-like eyes. Though his hands were trembling dangerously, Filari managed to pour the tea without spilling a drop. Once the imp was done, King Spruce picked up his cup and took a sip.

  “As I was saying,” he continued after swallowing, “I’ve thought about that too. You’re, what, fifteen?”

  Emerald nodded suspiciously.

  “By my calculations, that makes a princess of Medina ready for engagement,” King Spruce said. “Seeing as you are here and not at an engagement celebration, I’m assuming you don’t have a fiancé. That means you are eligible to be my wife.”

  Raina, who’d been quietly sipping her tea in between glances into her mirror, spit her tea into her cup.

  “Daddy, no!” she cried. “You can’t be serious about marrying this little . . . urchin!”

  “Raina, darling”—King Spruce took her hands in his and squeezed them—“I’m giving you the kingdom of Eseland. I have my sights set on something a bit bigger. Medina. And then maybe we’ll expand to a few other kingdoms. Together, you and I can rule the entire world.” King Spruce smiled fondly at his daughter. She gave him a beautiful smile back.

  “Okay, Daddy,” Raina dimpled. “But I’m not calling her Mother.”