KALISTA
Arawn was right; I do feel better after resting, and part of me resents this, but I did not have the energy to contend with him and now it is time to work. He is not in the tower where I asked him to meet me but in the library hunched over my father's oak desk.
When I enter, he glances up from a piece of paper. "I think I might have something that will work to capture the wolves."
It is a relief that he does not comment on my latter appearance or fatigue. While I feel better, my disposition still bears a hint of grey.
"Are you sure capturing one of them is a wise idea?"
"No, but you said yourself, they might help us break her connection to the curse." He holds out a paper for me. "Do you think you could build something like this with your magic?"
I take the paper and examine the lines and words that are scribbled across it. There are various depictions of a cage. It has a hinge plate a foot after the entrance that when stepped on, will cause the door to fall shut. I could weave vines together to make the walls but connecting the hinge plate with the door may prove tricky.
"I'll help you with the measurements and assembling it. It's just that if I were to build this from scratch, it would take more time than we have," Arawn explains.
I nod. "Of course. Is there anything else?"
"Well...yes. Weapons. There must be something in this palace. Simply a crossbow would be helpful."
A frown tugs at my lips. I have not opened that door in years, but I suppose I need to use every resource I have. I cannot say that I completely trust Arawn, but I think I can trust him enough not to use my weapons against me. "I might be able to find something. Come along."
This time, we descend. A door hidden behind a tapestry of a hunting scene reveals a staircase leading downward. Arawn seems skeptical and asks me if it leads to the dungeon. I raise a brow and tell him he can stay if he is afraid, but he laughs at this and urges me onward. He was being sarcastic, trying to lighten the atmosphere. I have not the slightest idea how to react to this, so I simply fall into the safety of my expressionless mask. Mother always said that this was the best approach—it is safer when your emotions are not blatantly evident.
I open my palm and my magic slips a candelabra into it. The little flames from the candles light the stone staircase and its carpeted steps and keep us from tumbling down and breaking our necks.
We reach the bottom and I blow gently upon the candles. The flames dance and tiny sparks flit throughout the room, lighting two large fireplaces and a chandelier made of antlers. In the center of the room, a long oak table is situated with its once-shining surface coated with dust. Upon the walls to our left and right are various hunting trophies that range from simple deer antlers to exotic dragon scales. Each one holds a story. There was never a time when I came into this room and Papa did not tell me a new story. He told of the foolishness of young men, of the bravery of strong knights, and of the wisdom of kings. From each story, he said, there was a lesson to be learned. My mother called it rubbish. Hunting was a frivolous pursuit that always ended in blood; either that of the prey or that of the predator, no matter how much noble blood he possessed. It is why the hunting room is located beneath the palace. Mother could not abide having it visible.
Yet, it is not the trophies, or the stories, or the opinions of my parents that drew me here today. It is the far wall. Upon it hang weapons of all shapes and sizes—longbows, crossbows, spears, daggers, swords.
Arawn's eyes widen at the display before him. "You choose to show me this now?"
I shrug and run a finger along the edge of the table. It comes away dark from dust and I wrinkle my nose at it. "I have no need of these things."
Arawn approaches the wall and lifts a crossbow from its hook. "Well that is fine, but there is no magic in my veins, so I feel much more at ease with a weapon in my hands." Comfortably, he turns it from one side to the other, then peers down the shaft. "Fine craftsmanship," he murmurs, blowing dust from the flight groove.
I turn away from him and look over the wall to my right. My favourite relic lies upon the mantelpiece, glimmering faintly in the light of the candles. It is a golden feather. Just one feather, though. If my father had had his way, he would have captured the bird too. The eternal songbird. A creature with feathers as bright and glorious as the sun and with a voice more beautiful than any other sound in the universe. It once made its home in our forest, but that was before...
"Kalista?"
I turn toward Arawn. The crossbow is positioned upon his back and daggers hang at his waist upon a leather belt.
"I am ready to head up whenever you are." There is questioning in his eyes as if he caught a glimpse of my wistful thoughts. Smoothing a wrinkle upon my dress, I step to the staircase.
We decide to construct the cage at the front of the palace, beneath a row of second-story windows. According to Arawn, this is the ideal spot because the open meadow will allow us to see the wolves approach while we safely watch from the windows. But then that brings forward the question of bait. Concerning this subject, we argue heatedly even before we have lifted a finger to create the cage. Arawn insists that we use a roast or raw meat, but I know that is not what the wolves desire. Finally, we decide to talk about it later and begin with the cage.
With my magic, I weave tree branches together to create the basic apparatus. It is large enough that Arawn can comfortably stand within and is as wide as I am tall. Arawn assembles the hinge plate and uses sturdy but thin cords to attach it to the door. It takes a few tries for it to work without the strings tangling up or the door getting stuck halfway down, but eventually, the door falls shut each time. With it working seamlessly, though, we are brought back to the topic of bait. I sternly tell Arawn that his shoulder has not yet healed and that I will not have him injuring himself again. He glares at me for a moment, then proposes a change to our construction. We drag the cage so that it rests against the palace wall and insert a dividing door in the center. Now, when the wolf steps upon the hinge plate, it will close both doors, locking it inside and separating it from me. Once it is captured, I will exit the cage through an opening in the back and then through a palace window. Arawn will be stationed in a window above with his crossbow; just in case something goes wrong.
Exhausted and nervous, we trek into the palace and up to the library where we review our plan again. Really, it is rather simple. Too simple? I will stand in the cage and wait for the wolves to come. They will catch my scent and one of them will be bold enough to enter the cage. The door will shut, I will escape through the back, and we will wait for the sun to chase the other wolves away. Then, we will gather the pieces of the curse and set them ablaze.
After an hour of pacing back and forth and Arawn attempting to calm me, I go to my room to get changed. Beedy has already laid out what I asked her to—a cotton shirt, a pair of breeches, and leather boots. My mother would be horrified at this outfit, but for the task ahead of me, it is the most practical. The breeches cling strangely to my thighs, but without the weight of my dress, my movements are freer.
Moving experimentally in the unfamiliar clothing, I trudge to the sitting room where my escape window is located. Arawn is there already, laying food out on a side table.
"You should eat something." He glances up and surprise flashes across his feature in response to my appearance, but he quickly recovers and adds, "You still look tired. Food will give you energy."
I comply and we sit in silence, watching as the sun paints the walls in varying shades of red and orange. Is this utter foolishness? Perhaps we are being daft and hoping for the impossible. Yet, how will we know if it is impossible if we don't try? But we could get hurt. I would likely heal. But Arawn...it would be my fault if he is harmed. At least I am the one acting as bait. His task is simple and safe.
Finally, the last sliver of sunlight disappears, and I slip out the window and into the cage. My hands are shaking, and I look up.
"I'll be right here the entire time," Arawn reassures from the window above. You're not alone anymore. His words from earlier ring in my ears and offer some semblance of calm. I am not alone, and I think that I can call the man standing above me a friend. I worry for him, like when he dislocated his shoulder, and he worries for me, like today when he was so reluctant to allow me to act as bait. That is what friends do, they worry about each other and take care of each other. Yet, what if it is more than friendship? When he was missing, I would have entered a dragon's den if it meant getting him back.
A dark shape slinks from the shadows of the forest and my breath catches. They are coming. Great heavens, I am petrified, but I will not surrender. This is not only about me. If it was, perhaps I could turn around and return to the safety of the palace and simply wait till the curse renders me silent. It is not, though. Hundreds of lives might hang upon this moment. That is terrifying. More terrifying even than facing the wolves. I can fight the wolves with my magic, but I cannot breathe life into dead bodies.
My hands curl into fists and my fingernails bite half-moon shapes into my palms. The pain snaps me from my delinquent musings and back to the present.
Some of the wolves trot toward me while others cautiously prowl nearer. I can see the glinting of their eyes now and hear the light padding of their feet. It would be natural for the fear to climb, to sink its talons into my sanity and clamber upwards, but somehow, I suddenly feel calm. Perhaps it is hope. Perhaps it is insanity.
I am surrounded now. The wolves snarl and snap at me but hesitate to enter the cage. Then one brave creature steps forward. Its snout slips beneath the shadow of the cage and its foot steps over the threshold.
Just a few more inches.
It pauses and I push down a scream of frustration. But then it crouches so that its belly nearly touches the ground. It is going to jump which means it will not touch the plate that is supposed to activate the doors.
The wolf leaps into the air and my hands shoot in front of me with magic sparkling across them, but before it explodes, an arrow whizzes past me and flies straight into the plate. With a whoosh and a snap, the doors fall closed, separating the wolf from me and from its freedom.
For a breath, I stare into the yellow eyes of one of my tormentors. Then I clamour backwards and haul myself through the window. I nearly fall onto the floor in my haste, but I catch myself on the windowsill. Reaching out, I take hold of the handles, pull the windows shut, and securely twist the lock.
"Kalista?" Arawn bursts through the parlour door, crossbow in hand and an anxious expression upon his features.
Relief pours into me and suddenly I find myself in Arawn's arms, embracing him as if I will never see him again.
"I should never have let you be the bait," he says, holding me against himself with one muscled arm.
I soak in the nearness of him and the way it feels to be touched by another human being. "I was alright. My magic was ready."
He leans back and cups my cheek with his calloused hand. "It was too close."
"But it's over now. We succeeded." My lips lift in a movement that is both unfamiliar and wonderful.
He smiles back at me and a whirlwind snatches me and carries me far from this place, far from the woman who threatens to tear this world to shreds. I want to stay in that paradise, but the shrill whining of our captive breaks us apart and sends us scurrying to the window.
"Will it break out?" Arawn asks peering out at the wolf that is clawing wildly at the cage.
I shake my head. "No, it shouldn't. That cage was constructed with magic, it will hold."
We watch the animal for a few more moments, then we back away from the window.
"You should get some rest. You haven't slept much in the past few days," Arawn says, motioning to one of the settees.
I want to disagree, but I am exhausted. There is no denying it. Wrapping my arms about my torso, I sit upon the settee. "What about you?"
Arawn smiles faintly, "I'll keep watch. Don't worry, I'll wake you if anything happens." He moves to stand beside the window and leans his forearm against the wall.
"Wake me in a few hours and I will keep watch." I settle back onto the settee and my eyes fall closed. Images of wolves flash across my eyelids, but slowly they fade and there is only darkness.
"Kalista."
A voice gently whispers my name. Is it a dream? It must be. It feels like something that I long for in the darkest recesses of my heart. To wake next to the one I love. To be gently awakened by his voice.
"Kalista. It is almost sunrise."
My eyelids flutter open to find Arawn crouched next to me.
At my movement, he grins at me. "Sleep well?"
I rub a hand over my face and push myself up into a sitting position. "You were supposed to wake me in a few hours so I could take watch."
He stands and steps over to the window. "I could not disturb you; you were sleeping so peacefully."
I grumble a little at this and push myself off of the settee. As I move to the window, my fingers comb through the unruly tangles in my hair. I must look a frightful mess.
Outside, grey light is just beginning to kiss the horizon. It will not be long now. In the cage, the wolf furiously paces back and forth while its companions slink menacingly in the shadows of the gardens and forest.
"Has it ever stopped?" I ask, rubbing the cramped muscles in my neck.
"No, it has paced like that all night long. It cannot be of this world. No mortal creature has the stamina to do that."
I frown at this. I know they are partly made of magic, but how much? I shiver in the draft of the window and Arawn tentatively reaches around me and draws me against himself. At first, I freeze in shock, but then I find myself leaning into the warmth of his body and the comfort that he offers. Is it wicked of me to wish that he could stay here forever? Is this desire for love selfish?
Hurriedly pushing those thoughts aside, I fix my eyes upon the eastern horizon. Warm hues brighten the grey and the wolves slowly begin to creep toward the trees. I feel as if I need to hold my breath, but what is there to be anxious about? We have the wolf. Now all we need to do is collect the other items and set them ablaze.
The last wolf disappears into the trees just as fingers of light reach over the trees. And suddenly, the wolf stops its pacing. It calmly sits and turns its face toward the sun.
Why? Is it connected to the sun?
Arawn realizes the truth the same moment that I do, and we scramble for the window latches. Magic surges through me in response to my panic. It sparks from my hands and flies toward the creature. But it is too late. A ray of sunlight slips across the meadow and stretches toward the wolf. In the blink of an eye, the animal disappears.
Arawn had leapt out the window and now he growls and angrily kicks the wall of the cage.
My magic dies with my hope and I whisper, "They are tied to the darkness of night."
"Like the rose was tied to sunlight."
I nod woodenly—he is referring to the first time I showed him my magic.
Dejectedly, Arawn climbs through the window. With his shoulders drooping, he moves toward the hall. "I'm going to lie down."
I let him go. He is exhausted, physically and mentally, and if we are to attempt this again, he needs to rest.
Once he is gone, I also trudge to my room. Beedy serves me a hearty breakfast and helps me change into my usual black gown. I then wander to my art room—I need to do something calming and since I fear playing piano will wake Arawn, I decide to paint.
My hands mechanically reach for paints and brushes, then I close my eyes. The picture I see is the landscape of a forest in mid-fall. The leaves are an array of warm golds and browns that are both brilliant and calming.
While I paint, I forget the wolves and I think of Arawn. He is kind and sweet; it seems like so long ago that he hated the very breath I breathed. But he didn't understand then. Perhaps I should have told him sooner. Yet, would he have listened? Would he have believed the words of a beast?
Hours slip by and it is well past noon when Arawn steps inside my art room. I continue dabbing at the bark of a tree and he quietly moves to stand behind me.
"It's beautiful," he murmurs.
Suddenly conscious of his inspecting gaze, my hand stills and I glance at him. He looks down at me with his hazel eyes and smiles. His eyes. Great heavens above. They are nearly the same colours as my forest.
Hurriedly setting my brush down, I stand. "I think it is finished. Have you eaten?"
He sends me a curious expression, but says, "No, I thought you would like to join me."
We take our plates of food to the library where we settle on a cushioned window seat and look down at the gardens below. They are scattered with vibrant blooms that smile cheerfully up at us. But Arawn does not seem to notice the gardens. He stares out at the forest with a frown pulling his brows together.
"What are you thinking about?" I ask gently. Perhaps he is longing for his family and wishing that he could be with them. I am glad that he is with me, but I can't deny the thread of guilt I feel for taking him away from Ventura.
"You said that Sophia found a mirror that made her more powerful, right?" His voice is a low, thoughtful murmur.
I suppose I don't know him well enough yet to read his thoughts. "Yes, that's right?"
"Are there more objects like that? Could you find one to break the curse with?"
I shake my head. "No, there aren't and even if there were, I wouldn't want them."
"Why not?"
"That mirror..." I swallow and look down at my hands which are buried in the ebony silk of my gown. Where do I start? At the beginning, I suppose. "A very long time ago, even before the name Vayliese meant anything, there was an old sorcerer. No one remembers his name it was so long ago. He was very powerful, but he was dying and he hated that even though he had so much magic, he could not stop his own death. He searched tirelessly for a cure for mortality, but he couldn't find one. Then one day, when death was close, he looked across his room and saw his mirror hanging there. He dragged himself to it and placed his hand upon the glass and he poured all of his magic into it."
I take a breath and squint out the window at the rose garden. That is where my father first told me this story. It was a beautiful sunny day, but I knew immediately by the grave sound of his voice that this was a story which must be taken seriously.
Swallowing my discomfort, I continue. "What he did not count upon, though, was that he could not communicate with others unless they looked directly into the mirror. He had no family and had chased all of his servants away in his bitterness, so his estate was left abandoned. Years went by until finally, the king bequeathed the land to another nobleman. Most of the goods were sold first, including the mirror. It passed from one owner to the next, never staying long with anyone. Because there was something terribly strange about it. Those who looked into it turned into miserable beings who seemed to age far faster than was natural. The truth was that the mirror was stealing their strength, their youth, and using it to make itself more powerful."
There is a breath of silence, then Arawn asks softly, "What happened to the mirror?"
"It was being sold at an auction and without knowing what it really was, a man bought it for his new wife. He hung it in her room for her, but it was not long before he regretted ever buying it. She would stare into it for hours and if he tried to remove it, she had a terrible fit and swore that she would kill herself. Eventually, she became so weak that she died anyway. The man was furious, he was broken, and he was determined to destroy the mirror. But as he stood in front of it, it spoke to him, and it showed him things of beauty and wealth and strength—it showed him power. He did not destroy it because he wanted those things and the mirror could give them to him, he had only to ask. So he stood before the mirror and he said, 'Mirror, mirror on the wall, make me the greatest of them all.' Since then, it has had only one other true owner and that is Galinda."
Arawn absently massages the back of his neck and murmurs darkly, "So we are not really fighting against Queen So... Galinda, we are fighting against the mirror?"
"Yes. Galinda has become powerful because the mirror has allowed her to; really, she is just an instrument, a weapon. But, if we can break the connection"—I can tell by the way his mouth hardens into a line that he knows I mean if we can kill her—"then perhaps we stand a chance against it."
"Has anyone ever tried to destroy it before?"
"Veralisa would have, but she didn't have the power to so she sealed it in a mountain."
"But that didn't work, because here it is again."
I wrap my arms around myself as if I can feel the cold of the mirror slipping into me already. "I do not know Arawn. Magic can only be destroyed with magic, but it will take a very special, very pure magic to destroy the mirror." While my magic might be powerful, it is the blood magic of Vayliese. It is not pure magic—there is a darkness to it that all of my ancestors possessed. Perhaps it is faint, but I know that if I were to stand before the mirror, I might not be able to resist it.
Arawn sighs and stands. "I suppose it's no use to dwell on it now when we can't really do anything about it." He holds out his hand. "Come, perhaps music will cheer us."
For a time, we lose ourselves between the notes of the music we play. I think we both want to forget. But finally, we admit that we must revisit our plan. After all, it will be dusk soon and the wolves will return. We examine our cage to ensure that it is still functional and lay a blanket over the top. Once a wolf is inside, I will use my magic to cover the cage with the blanket and also to cast a spell that will trap the darkness of night beneath the blanket.
As the sun once again sinks in the west, we take up our posts. Arawn attempts again to convince me to trade positions, but I don't budge. It is safer this way.
I watch impatiently as the wolves prowl along the perimeter of the forest. Leisurely, they meander across the meadow and toward the palace. Nearer and nearer they move till they are mere feet away from the cage. But there they stop. Not a single one of the creatures ventures near the cage.
Finally, after we have stared at each other for some time, Arawn calls down to me, "For magical creatures, they are quite intelligent."
"It's not them. It's her. She controls them and she knows what we are attempting to do."
In response to this, one of the wolves growls. It is like she is mocking me, laughing at my pitiful efforts.
"I'm coming down."
"N-no. Stay there," I call to him, but naturally, he does not listen. Stubborn man.
In a few moments, Arawn slips through the window and comes to stand next to me.
"Now there's two of us. Wouldn't that make a nice meal?" He shouts at them, but they simply continue their pacing.
"What about your magic?" He asks.
"It doesn't work," I respond, sending a half-hearted beam of fire toward one of the wolves. It envelopes the creature for a moment, then dissipates like smoke. "I can hurt them as much as I like, but I cannot manipulate them. Just like I can't manipulate any other parts of the curse."
"What if we antagonize them? Make them angry?" He looks down the barrel of his crossbow but does not fire.
"Perhaps a week ago it would have worked, but she is directly controlling them now. They will not enter the cage unless she commands them to."
Together, we lean against the windowsill and watch the wolves pace about; always moving, but never coming near to the entrance. Occasionally, we discuss other ways to capture them, but until we have time during the day to prepare, there is nothing we can do.
At dawn, they disappear into the forest and Arawn and I go our separate ways. Exhausted and frustrated, I lie on my bed and stare at the faded patterns on my canopy. Fading. Just like my hope. Truly, it is not Galinda we are battling. It is the mirror. And the mirror is terrible and powerful. It will not be easily defeated.
*****
Sorry for the long chapter. What do you think? Please vote and comment!