The Hidden Princess (Book One of the Whispered Tales)

Chapter 5

Eliza slowly approached the stall. The Shadow stood up straight and removed the drab veil covering its face. At the sight of it, the girl couldn't hold a frightened cry.

The Shadow was a witch. But not just any witch; not one of those her father used to tell her about during those long winter nights. A real witch, like the one she heard of living in the forest behind her father's mill. Yet, a thousand times scarier than she had ever imagined. Her hemp-like, tangled hair went all the way to the ground. Her eyes were black, so black that the white parts were completely gone. And Eliza saw her terrified face in that tarry well. Her grey face was rutted by thousands of deep ditches like a map was scrawled on her skin. Her dark lips formed a sinister grimace, revealing the abyss that replaced her mouth. And her nose... Her nose was covering half her face, twisted and filled with husky bristles. Her arms were thin and bony like tangled branches and her fingers with twisted hawked nails were constantly moving.

'Oh, but you mustn't fear, my dear Princess... Or perhaps I shouldn't call you that' she added and from the deep mouth emerged throaty noises that were supposed to be her laughter. Instead, they seemed more like gargles only wild beasts could make.

Eliza cleared her throat and dared to speak, 'Well, since you know I'm not the real princess, you must also know why I'm here.'

The witch laughed even harder, 'Of course I know, Eliza. Witch Guzma is my name and I know everything about you. I've known you since you were born and you've never left my sight. I know you better than you think, miller's daughter. Or perhaps I shouldn't even call you that?'

Eliza didn't understand what the witch meant. She shivered, thinking that all those whispers she heard around the mill, all those shadows and sobbing were, in fact, real and not a figment of a child's imagination as her father used to say to comfort her.

'But let's get this over with,' roared Guzma. 'As far as I know, you want to gain a voice, the sweetest voice on the face of the earth; a healing voice for body and soul. More beautiful than the song of a mockingbird, isn't that so? Then all you have to do is drink this potion I made for you... Drink!' she ordered.

And the witch handed her a grail with something bubbling inside, like hot tar. Eliza touched the burning grail and, after a moment of hesitation, drank it in a sip. She instantly felt how her throat and entrails were set on fire, and a blundering pain stroke her down to the ground.

With beady eyes, she saw the phantasm leaning over her and whispering in her ear, 'Wear this bracelet and you will be able to sing.'

The girl felt her hand being wreathed in a circle of fire that was burning and piercing her flesh. She saw the bracelet had nine amulets shaped like birds in all the colours of the rainbow.

'That's it?' she said trying hard to get up with the whole room spinning around her.

But the witch's beastie gurgling laughter struck her. 'Don't be hasty, Eliza... Everything in this world comes with a price.' Then, her voice roared again, 'Every time you want to sing, you have to tear off one of the amulets and throw it in the fire. Only then will you be able to sing like no other. But be careful, use them wisely,' she whispered in her ear. 'For with every burnt amulet, some of your youth and beauty will come to me. And my hideous hoariness will take their place. Until you will drink from the Fountain of Youth, you will remain old and bitter. But beware! When the last amulet is gone, so will be your last breath!'